Starlet
by ange13
Summary: 1950's AU where Christine is inspired a bit by Marilyn Monroe's private life. She begins a new project as the (female) title role in a live-action Beauty and the Beast film with an incredibly curious musical director. Still using the personalities of ALW/Leroux characters.
1. Chapter 1: Introduction

Her name up in lights, a plethora of diamond jewelry, crowds of adoring people, and enough money to last her for the next fifteen years. What more could a girl want?


	2. Chapter 2: First Filming

Christine arrived on set early the next morning, hoping the day wouldn't feel as everlasting as the previous day of shooting. The cameramen were busy trying to record as many of the shots they could do in their urban setting, planning to soon move their equipment and set pieces to Paris, their actual filming location. Several people were already bustling about before the cameras began rolling: moving several flower arrangements, setting up a small library, makeup artists preparing for the actors, cast members reciting their lines to themselves, directors guzzling down cups of coffee.

Soon Christine was tugged away into a dressing room to get her appearance ready for filming- slipping a peasant-like puffed-sleeve dress on over a waist trainer, thinly rimming her blue eyes with eyeliner, applying a rose hue to her cheeks, perfecting the shape of her eyebrows, extending the length of her already-long eyelashes, tracing the shape of her soft lips with a pinkish stain, and styling her hair into a wavy low ponytail. Her appearance had completely transformed into that of her character's. She thanked the makeup artist and got up to see the director.

"Ah, Miss Daae. Please begin the scene where you enter the quaint library and interact with the sweet, old librarian in just a moment. Someone get Mr. Lewis onto the set! He's making me late by the moment!" He shouted from his seat overlooking the center of the set.

The older Mr. Lewis was soon brought to the cameras, and he stood by the bookshelves with a hand raised to scratch beneath the itchy powdered wig on his head. Action was called out loudly through a megaphone, and Christine took that as her cue to enter through the faux-door.

"Hello monsieur! I've come to return the book I borrowed the other day." She greeted in a delicate cadence she attributed to the would-be princess.

"Good morning Belle! You've finished the book already? There have been well-educated men who took over a week to get to the end. And they, quite obviously, didn't understand the metaphors and allegories incorporated within the story."

"It was too wonderful for me to put down!" She shrugged, turning slightly away from the camera to place the book in its rightful place.

"I shall accept your word for it. We haven't received any new volumes lately, I'm afraid."

"That's quite alright, I'll take this one to tide me over."

Her fingers elegantly pulled out a brown leather book, showing it off to the librarian.

A surprised expression overtook his face as he responded: "But you've read it so many times!"

"And it never fails to exhilarate me." She smiled with a brief flutter of the false eyelashes.

"Then you may keep it, my dear."

Her eyes widened, "Oh really?! I'm ever so grateful to you, monsieur!"

She bowed her head in thanks and excitedly left the bookstore, the long skirt of her dress billowing out behind her. The director called "cut" once Christine moved out of the shot and gave the pair a few notes on the scene, clearly insinuating that they needed to redo it.

Hours passed of the crew setting up and shooting small scenes, actors growing more and more tired with each take. There were seemingly relatively few things they _could_ actually shoot without the music prepared, but it seemed to take forever to complete even those they planned on doing. Christine would sit down whenever possible, sneaking sweet biscuits or fruits whenever there was a moment she wasn't needed for.

The return home was later than the previous night but happened practically the same way: greeting Mary, eating dinner, and being left alone for the night. Christine decided to begin packing her things for Paris, knowing that she'd been putting it off until the last minute. Her flight was meant to leave after tomorrow, and quite early in the morning. Luckily, the cast wasn't expected to shoot scenes upon arrival. But they would soon meet the musical director and be bossed around by yet another commanding man.

As the young actress folded her clothes into a pastel blue suitcase, she imagined what this man would be like. She assumed that any kind of director was usually a mousy-looking older man that reeked of cigarettes, coffee, or alcohol and criticized the smallest details of his work as it was being performed. Surely this man wouldn't break the stereotype she formed in her mind after 4 years of experience with such people.


	3. Chapter 3: Paris

Paris. An ornately beautiful city of progress, and yet, great history. Christine waved to some of the crowd that had gathered to greet the arriving cast members at the airport, flashing camera lights being among the people. The star was ushered into a cab, being immediately driven off to the centrally-located flat she was to live in during the filming. For once she thanked herself for smoothing out and styling her hair up, for the summer sun beamed down mercilessly over her, and her natural curls would've kept her head far too warm.

Christine couldn't help but stare childishly out of the window and admire the sights. Even the crammed restaurants in small corners of each _rue_ were absolutely marvelous to her. The sight of landmarks like the shining Sacre Coeur or the high-rising Eiffel Tower were almost too much for the excited girl. Her blue eyes remained widened throughout the entire ride to her building.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle Daae. We'll take your luggage up." A uniformed man greeted her upon arrival.

"Oh, merci monsieur. That is very kind of you." She smiled gratefully and followed behind him up to her new living quarters.

The towering double-doors were opened by the kind man guiding her, revealing the awe-inspiring room. There was a neat crown molding framing each wall, gilded décor pieces placed around the room, pale-colored furniture arranged to fill the open space, fragrant fresh flowers in crystal vases, pristine marble floors, and elegant paintings hung up on some of the walls. Christine spun around slowly, taking in her surroundings with a dropped jaw that morphed into a bright smile.

"Well, what do you think of it, mademoiselle?" The man asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"It's absolutely breath-taking!" She exclaimed.

"Would you like to see the balcony?"

Her eyes impossibly widened even more as she eagerly followed behind him, "Of course!"

The parted French doors led to a small balcony, just big enough for the black iron table and chairs overlooking a view of the city. Christine was especially delighted at her ability to see the Eiffel Tower a little distance away amidst the old-style architecture of the buildings. She thanked the man in uniform as he arranged her suitcases and left her to the room.

Her eager hands opened one of her cases, removing her own camera to capture the view from the wonderful room. Christine knew she would enjoy waking up every morning whilst staying here for the film. The sights almost made the thought of her work slip away, seeming to be the setting of a dream.

\- - - Next morning - - -

The actress woke up with a groan, faced with the reality of having to go to work. She quickly realized she wasn't in her own pale green bedsheets, but rather in fluffy white ones. In fact, the whole room was unfamiliar to Christine until she remembered the long trip she'd endured to this new city. She got up rapidly, seeing the city just begin to wake up with her and started to freshen up before going to work. A bowl of fruits and an elegant tea tray loaded with pastries awaited her in the kitchenette.

As soon as she drank down the last sip of tea and finished her breakfast, Christine merrily sped down the two flights of stairs leading to the lobby area. Gold vases of ivory-colored lilies dotted the spacious, and quite luxurious, area. The young star bid the staff members goodbye as she exited the front doors, walking down the sidewalk to the office building for the cast meeting.

This place was much sleeker than any other place here- white walls, minimal decorations, and very angular-shaped furniture. A very abstract painting hung in the center of the accent wall as the only colorful object in the room. There was a neatly-dressed woman sitting at the front desk, writing away and flipping the pages of what appeared to be an agenda. Christine quietly walked up to her, asking for where the meeting was being held and then kindly being escorted to the elevator so she could join everyone on the third floor.

The elevator immediately opened up to a room similarly decorated to the downstairs office, except there were many more people staring up at her. A long table took up the majority of the room, many of the most important cast and crew members gathered around each side of it.

"Pardon me if I've interrupted something." Christine said, taking one of the two empty seats left.

"Not at all, please join us Miss Daae." The director replied, taking a swig of coffee from the mug in front of him.

She smiled gently at those who she'd gotten to know better, glancing around nervously through the complete silence and wondering what they were waiting for. Soon her question was answered, as the elevator doors opened to reveal quite a character.

He stood quite tall, dressed in the most debonair clothes that hung loosely over his thin frame. A stark white mask covered one side of his face while the other appeared quite handsome, even through the hardened expression of it. His gait was almost ominous, as if he was a fictional villain, and he sat down in the only other empty chair- the one opposite of Christine's.

"I bid everyone a good morning. Usually I have a good friend to accompany me, but he is otherwise occupied at the moment. For those of you who do not know me, I am the musical director for this project and I take partial charge over the general directing as well." He introduced himself.

Christine piped up quietly: "What may we call you, sir?"

The man raised his golden-brown eyes up to meet her blue ones.

"Erik will do."

"It is nice to meet you, sir." She said with a slight bow of her head.

"Yes, well let's have the director, Mr. Rogers, begin the topic of this meeting." Erik continued, eager to get on with the business.

The groggy man perked up instantly, "Um, yes. The business. I think we'll start doing some, uh, scenes-"

Erik suddenly interrupted the man's stuttering: "We will begin shooting the opening scene in the quaint village. Our star must be prepared to sing over the speakers which will be playing the pre-recorded background music."

The director continued, finally being able to regain control of his words: "Yes, shooting for everyone here will begin at 6 am the day after tomorrow. There will be cars arranged to take most of you to the location, which is the sectioned-off region along the Seine. I will give the address to those who need it."

Christine did her best not to fall asleep amidst the dull conversation, gazing outside the window at the sunlit city. She had no interest for the difference between the effect various flowers would have on the overall picture. Of course, the young woman was overjoyed to be working on such a project and took it as a great responsibility, but arguing over the tiniest details seemed pointless.

"Bored, Miss Daae?" The musical director questioned with a sharp tone, bringing the singer out of her daze.

"Oh no, sir. I apologize if it seemed so." She said, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

"This discussion is finished, any further debates can be made later among those who they may concern. Everyone is dismissed." Erik announced.

Christine got up from her seat, her cheeks still pink, when the mysterious man called her out once more: "Although I'd like to ask Miss Daae to stay a moment."

The brunette's eyes widened briefly in surprise, feeling even more bashful that this austere man was requesting her to remain after the meeting with him. Perhaps he would scold her for appearing to feel careless, or threaten her position in the film if she was caught tuning out again. Soon the room was empty, other than herself and the intimidating man now standing across from her.

"Well, what did you want to discuss with me, sir?" She asked, trying to mask the anxiety in her voice.

He cleared his throat, "Are you always so focused during business meetings?"

"I did apologize and I didn't mean t-"

"Never mind. If my friend was with me, he'd suggest I move on and stop my short temper from bothering others. Now, this room may not have the best acoustics but I insist that you demonstrate your abilities with this music." The man stated, pulling out several pieces of sheet music from his file folder.

Christine's blue eyes scanned the sheets, quietly humming the tune written on the papers to herself before attempting to sing before the mysterious musical director. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she sang the opening line of the introduction piece and gradually became more confident in tone as she continued. At the end of the brief song, her gaze slowly met that of Erik's.

"Better than expected."


	4. Chapter 4: Masked Man

Christine felt her chest rise and fall quickly with anxiety since this man didn't exactly help her feel relieved in any way. She waited, and noticed his golden-brown gaze flit downwards so quickly that she wasn't sure if he even did so. Her patience started wearing thinner, not willing to be kept in such a state of confusion and fear by this man any longer.

"Anything further comments, sir?" Christine managed to say without gritting her teeth.

"I think I could help you tomorrow, if you'd be willing to improve." He said, a very snarky sound to his words.

She held in a groan.

"Where will I meet you?"

"Room 333 in the same building that you're residing in. Be ready at 7 sharp- I do not tolerate tardiness. You are dismissed." Erik said with a flick of his wrist, turning to face his business documents.

The actress sighed quietly, going into the elevator and waiting for the doors to shut. The moment they did so, Christine groaned loudly and raked her fingers through her pin-curled hair. What an arrogant man! She was quite a humble girl and would never brag about her voice, but she knew that her performance couldn't have been that terrible! Even if it was, the man should've had the decency not to put her down in such a way.

But the sunshine was gleaming too wonderfully for her to be so glum for the rest of the day, and she went on a walk to visit some of the landmarks. The Louvre was perfectly inviting to her troubled mind so that was where her feet led her. Several people were milling about the area and admiring the art, Christine was glad to be just another person in the crowd for once. The pressure of being herself was momentarily lifted for the afternoon.

Her heart swelled at seeing such flawless brushstrokes put together to create inspiring images of several forms: beautiful goddesses, sweet fruits, flowers bursting in bloom, strong warriors, familiar historical faces, delicate pastries, vintage architecture, vengeful women, colorful swirls of abstract shapes, lush landscapes, and heavenly angels. Christine felt such a passion looking at the masterpieces on each of the walls that the painful interaction with the musical director almost managed to fade from her mind. The most impressive thing to her was how the artists managed to make hard stone like marble or alabaster look so soft and smooth. Some of the pieces even appeared practically translucent, as they were meant to resemble clothes upon the sculpted figures.

Her daze was broken when she backed up a bit too far while observing the details of the dark sculpture of an armed Artemis with a stag. She accidentally bumped into someone else, immediately turning around to apologize profusely for being so unaware of her surroundings.

"I'm so sor-" Christine began, until she noticed just who had been standing behind her.

"Ah, Miss Daae, surprising to see you again today." The stoic music director commented, not bothering to smile politely at her.

There was an unknown man standing beside him, though. He was clearly older, but was obviously handsome in his youth, with dark silver-streaked hair and tanned skin. A burgundy astrakhan cap covered part of his head and his deep brown eyes shone with a light of kindness. It was clear to both men that Christine was trying to figure out who this man was, and so Erik introduced his friend.

"I see you have an interest in my friend here. This is the Daroga, which means "police chief" in his native Persian."

"It's nice to meet you Mr. Daroga." Christine smiled, glad that the older man seemed much more cheerful in comparison to his musical friend.

"You as well, Miss Daae."

"Oh, please call me Christine."

"Very well then, Christine. How have you been acquainted with this charming fellow?" The Daroga questioned with a tinge of sarcasm in his last statement.

"Erik is the musical director for a film I've been cast in."

"Ah yes, the timeless story of Beauty and the Beast. Quite ironic."

The masked man glared at his friend, looking like he was doing his best to keep from kicking him in order to shut him up. Christine wisely ignored his comment and chatted a bit longer with the kind man, wondering how he could possibly be in companionship with the contrastingly somber man beside him.

"Oh, I personally enjoy the works of Renoir but I haven't gotten the chance to visit the Musee de l'Orangerie where more of his works are." Christine replied to one of the Daroga's questions.

"Well, it's too late today but you must visit it. Monet's Waterlilies are simply magnificent! Erik here is quite the art historian, among other things, when he isn't in such a sour mood."

"I'd be delighted to see that." She joked.

Erik suddenly grew tired of them gossiping over art and him, interrupting their jovial conversation: "Unfortunately, very few have seen outside my 'sour' mood. But if you've finished your discussion, I would like to leave before security asks us to do so."

The Daroga chuckled, "Relax Erik, I was only thinking of asking Christine to join us for dinner. I doubt you enjoy the constant solitude of your flat, my friend."

"The solitude is perfectly alr-"

"No, I insist that Christine join us as a guest. What do you say?" The Persian smiled.

The young brunette was surprised at his invitation, but she decided to accept it. The older man was delighted at her response and led her by the crook of her arm while Erik trailed behind them in his, apparently usual, dramatic way. As an odd trio, they made their way over to a nearby café for a laid-back dinner together and to talk some more. Christine was interested in finding out more about the two, very contrasting, friends.

She learned that they met in...mysteriously strange circumstances that the Daroga didn't mention...in Persia, when Erik worked as a master architect. Apparently, his designs were ridiculously amazing and unthinkable but brilliant when it came down to the math; he was known as the best at his trade and worked solely for upper-class citizens that lived in nothing but luxury. Erik didn't say a word, other than occasionally to stop his friend from flattering him, and kept his eyes looking in any direction other than Christine's face.

Once their lovely meals were brought to the table, Christine was shocked at how little the artistically-gifted man ate.

"Oh Erik, please tell me you had a large lunch. You can't possibly have just coffee and a tiny cheese plate for dinner!" Christine stated in concern.

The Daroga chuckled and answered for his slightly embarrassed friend: "Ah, your Maestro is an interesting character. He dedicates himself to his work and requires very little energy when inspiration strikes."

"But that can't b-" Christine protested.

"Enough, it doesn't concern you anyway." The masked man snapped, taking a sip of his coffee bitterly.

"I'm sorry, I only meant to express m-"

"Trust me when I tell you this, Miss Daae: I despise pity from all people, especially those who aren't well acquainted with me. You happen to fall into such a category and I don't want to hear your false concern for me."

The young woman was shocked at his outburst, suddenly feeling like their conversation was a tightrope walk that she was about to plummet from. She kept herself silent, focusing only on the delectable food on her plate, hoping that the Daroga would say something. Normally, Christine didn't get easily upset, but there were already a few tears welling up in her blue eyes. The older Persian pulled the masked man from his seat and apologized to the girl for leaving her at the table for a moment.

"Now look what you've done! Scared the poor girl half to death and now she refuses to say anything." The Daroga scolded him.

"It was her fault for prying." Erik said in defense.

"You are acting like a child! She hardly knows you and seems to be quite an empathetic person, of course she is concerned for you. And what did you do? Nearly shout at her for her kindness."

"Kindness? The world has no kindness for individuals like myself."

The Daroga rolled his eyes.

"My friend, I wouldn't be here if there was no kindness for you. You are a man like any other, Erik- flawed in some ways but wonderful in others. Could you please make an effort to be decent to this girl?"

"If I must, in order for you to shut up." Erik huffed, walking back to the table and sitting down.

Christine glanced up innocently, the look of a startled deer in her eyes.

"I apologize for losing my temper, Christine. This is the reason why I usually have my irritating old Persian friend in tow." Erik explained, swallowing down his pride.

"It's fine, I really shouldn't have pried into your personal preferences."

"No, I am the one at fault here."

"Then I accept your apology."

"And I must also apologize for being so difficult this morning. You really aren't bad at all; I just don't like complimenting others, it can lead to them overinflating their egos."

"Well, not true in my case. I've always doubted myself no matter how many lessons or job offers I've received. Thank you for offering to help me, Erik."

"It's nothing." He muttered just as the Daroga returned to the table.


	5. Chapter 5: Lesson 1

Christine was rudely awakened in the early morning by the blaring noise of the telephone on top of her nightstand, groaning in response to its ringing and surprised that anyone was calling her in the first place. Sitting up with her back against a pillow, Christine picked up the phone and attempted to smooth down the disorderly mess of curls atop her head.

"Hello?" She asked, clearing her throat to rid of the deep morning voice.

"Oh, sorry, did I wake you? I didn't count what time it was in France. Speaking of which, how are ya liking it, honey?" The sickeningly peppy sound of her agent's voice answered.

"Ah, Mr. Berman. It's 6 in the morning here so I wish to have continued my sleep at the moment. Otherwise, things have been going well. Why do you ask?"

"I hear your co-star will be arriving next week and wanted to remind you that publicity is quite important to your success. Please be most welcoming and somewhere near the public eye so people so you. I'd like to see your name on the cover of a magazine again."

The brunette grit her teeth, "I'll definitely be polite but do not force me to act as an escort for co-stars just for the attention."

"I'm your agent, honey, it's my job. Your name, front page, next week. Bye!"

So much for another enjoyable morning. Christine groaned again, this time getting up from the comforting, pale blue sheets of the bed and going to get herself ready for Erik's coaching. The longest part of her routine was spent on flattening the almost-corkscrew curls of her natural hair into more presentable, loose waves. Her breakfast consisted of earl grey tea with a _Viennoiserie_ pastry and some fruit, trying not to consume anything that would hinder her vocal tone.

In attempt to cheer herself up after that less-than-reassuring phone call, Christine sat outside to see the sunrise while she breakfasted. It was much quieter now than in the afternoon or evening. There were only a few cars milling about the practically empty streets, a couple of early-morning shoppers, and restaurant employees opening up for breakfast. A few dark thoughts clouded her mind, reminding her that listening to her agent would likely do her good and she should follow his request. After all, Mr. Berman had more experience in the industry than she did, though the media portrayed her as a much more outgoing and secretly risqué woman than her true personality.

No longer wanting to ponder over what was expected of her in the next week, Christine went inside and took the short journey across the hallway to Erik's flat. Her brief knocking on his door ominously echoed in the vacant hall, not receiving a response for a solid minute or so. Footsteps sounded behind the door, making her heart race a bit in anticipation of who would open the door for her. Luckily, it was only the smiling Daroga welcoming her inside the richly-decorated entry room.

"Good morning, Christine. I entrust you slept well?"

"Oh, like a baby. It's great to see you this morning, especially in such a great mood. I don't even know how I'm awake."

"Well, prepare yourself- Erik is waiting for you in the office room with his violin."

"Thank you, Mr. Daroga." She smiled, leaving him to find the intimidating masked man.

And she succeeded in doing so, easily spotting him plucking the strings while seated in a burgundy leather chair. Her fingers nervously tugged the loose sleeves of her lacy, white blouse unsure of what to expect from this unpredictable, and still very much unknown, man. He turned, and Christine was caught in the gaze of his golden-brown eyes.

"Good morning Erik, I didn't know you played the violin." She greeted.

"Ah, one of the several instruments I'm decently skilled at." He shrugged.

"I haven't heard anyone play since my father."

Ignoring her last remark, he continued straight to business: "Well, lets hear a scale and arpeggios before you get to singing the song itself."

"Oh, alright." She nodded, beginning with a C-major scale and running the arpeggios.

The only times at which Erik would step in with his violin were the few not-immediately in-tune notes at the top of the dominant and diminished 7th, being the most difficult arpeggios to manage. With this result, the masked man knew that Christine had a trained ear for music and wouldn't be as impossible to work with as he originally supposed. He assumed that her aforementioned father taught her part of his trade.

Erik suggested a few lesser-known vocal warm-ups that would greatly improve her technique once Christine finished. Then, he handed her the sheet music from the previous day and told her to sing it again. However, just as the young woman opened her mouth, Erik brought up his notice of Christine's fingers fiddling with her blouse.

"Whatever is the matter?"

"Nothing, I'm not sure why you asked." Christine's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"You're clearly nervous."

"Only because I don't wish to disappoint you."

"Nerves don't help, they only hinder your ability to perform. Anything that happens can be corrected."

The young woman nodded, and started the introductory song. Her mind was fresh with all of the recent events that had occurred since her arrival in the beautiful city, being helpful for conveying some of the emotional tones of the piece. As the last lyric approached, she ended it a bit softer than before and related the restriction of her character's freedom to her own limitations; namely, those constantly imposed on her by Mr. Berman. A crestfallen look overtook her face briefly in memory of earlier this morning, but she glanced up to see what her instructor would say.

"Why didn't you sing it that way the first time?"

A light smile appeared on Christine's face: "Perhaps the nerves."

"Work on the tonal quality and convey what's written on the paper without getting lost in solely staring at the sheet music. That's what's keeping you at 'good' rather than 'great'."

Their rehearsal lasted into the afternoon, only stopping once the Daroga interrupted and told them that tea had been brought up to the room. Erik looked disappointed, but set his violin down on a chair before following the other two. Christine marveled at the rich emerald color of many accent pieces in the room, as well as the overflowingly filled tea tray of food that rested on a black iron table. This one happened to match the one she had in her flat, as both were outside on a balcony with a beautiful view of the city. Erik's, however, had much more space.

"How did the rehearsal go?" The Persian asked.

"Quite well." The masked man remarked with a cup of early grey tea up to his thin lips.

"My question was posed for Christine to answer."

The young woman perked up at the mention of her name, bringing her gaze up from the artfully crafted dishes before her.

"It was better than I anticipated."

"Really? Erik must've been on his best behavior." The Daroga teased.

The other man's golden-brown eyes glared at him, "I am not _always_ insufferable."

The Persian turned to face Christine, "My friend doesn't understand humor."

"Are you quite finished slandering me?"

"Would you prefer I continually compliment your abilities? Maybe not, as you shut me up when I tried doing so yesterday."

Both men bantered with each other as Christine observed them, attempting to stifle her laughter at their childish behavior mixed with the sentence complexity of an adult.

"Why you impudent magpie! Don't tell me you've also been through my drawers." Erik growled once his friend mentioned something about his talent in drawing the forms of a person.

"Erik, your unnecessary shouting is the reaction of an erratic adolescent. No, I have not broken into your locked-up drawers of whatever it is you draw. I am speaking of the piece you did for the film staging quite recently, as you _are_ the owne-"

"That is quite enough! I'm surprised that only now I see just how immense of a gossip you can be, Daroga."

The older man crossed his arms with a sigh, no longer wanting to be the victim of Erik's outburst. At this, the masked man smirked in victory and had another sip of tea. It was then that he observed Christine's blatantly humored expression.

"And what's so funny to you, dear girl?" He sneered.

"Your conversation, of course. The way you speak makes it seem as though you absolutely despise each other, but you both are clearly such great friends." The brunette explained.

"Yes, were just _so_ fond of each other." Erik responded with a sarcastic tone and roll of the eyes.

Their conversation carried on, moving past the small argument the men had, and continued until all of the dishes had been emptied and the tea long gone. Christine thanked them both for everything and dismissed herself back into her room. With a little practice later in the evening, she knew she would be more prepared for tomorrow's filming of the opening scenes.


	6. Chapter 6: Co-star

The shooting of the film had begun, and the long-awaited co-star arrived. He'd been chosen for his looks to portray the human form of Prince Adam and was to be heavily dressed-up for the majority of the scenes. The casting remained a secret, so the whole studio was buzzing on the day of his arrival. Christine, upon first glance, recognized him immediately.

"Raoul?!" She said almost instinctually, genuinely shocked at seeing him.

"Christine?" He responded with a large smile forming over his youthful face.

Many of the ladies gawked at him while others appeared disgusted that he seemed to know her, and in quite a fond light.

"I can't believe I'm seeing you here. _You're_ playing the Beast?"

He shrugged, "That is the role they cast me in, _Lotte_. Though I'm not at all surprised that you are playing the princess."

The brunette blushed, "No one ever called me that except my father. I am glad to see you after such a long time, what a coincidence that we happened to be cast as co-stars!"

The two had been childhood friends, back when Christine's father was still alive and playing concerts for people on his violin. Raoul's family attended one of these performances, went backstage to meet the talented musician, and also met the violinist's young daughter. They'd played together as children for a few years before Christine moved away with her father, as he began to grow ill.

"It won't be as difficult to act opposite of someone I know, rather than some diva." Raoul commented teasingly.

The director's voice boomed through the megaphone, the mysterious musical director beside him with a displeased expression over half of his face, and called everyone to their places for the scene.

And the rest of the work days were relatively similar- Raoul and Christine happily chattering between each other, the director shouting with a mug of coffee perpetually in his hand, Erik seemingly disappointed with most things, and the Daroga occasionally watching over his friend.

But full days of filming and interacting with Christine's childhood friend, and now co-star, was never enough for Mr. Berman. Her agent was demanding that she turn public attention to herself in one of the simplest, and most popular, ways: being seen outside of work with the handsome Raoul. Now this idea wasn't completely unappealing to Christine, she was happy to catch up with her friend, but she hated that there would be rumors swirling around about them being in a relationship with each other. Raoul was too much like a brother or close cousin to the girl that she couldn't dream of such a thing.

It was always this way with Mr. Berman: get casted in some role (film or theatre), interact with the top-billed actors (occasionally actresses), capture media attention, and gain popularity. So it wasn't shocking to Christine that most people who hadn't personally met her assumed that she was some social butterfly who liked to test the waters with potential suitors in her field. Several people admitted to Christine their surprise at how quiet her demeanor was and that she didn't spring up to go out someplace, deducing that it was her agent's pushing that caused her media profile to be so flamboyant and glamorous.

She tried very hard not to wear herself out with the constant filming, outings with Raoul, calls from Mr. Berman, various other work proposals, and the musical tutelage she received from Erik. He'd definitely become harder on her voice, allowing absolutely no room for errors and becoming displeased with some of her expressions when trying to act as her character.

"No, you must be internally stronger yet gentle instead of willy-nilly like some naïve schoolgirl. Try the line over again." The musical director grumbled.

"Sorry, sir. I don't quite know what you want me to do for _that_ sort of tone."

He groaned in exhaustion at her less-than-perfect practices and ridiculous request.

"Fine, sing the lyrics for the next song and I'll have to accompany you. Keep in mind that this is a bit different styling, but you must show off how you're strong-minded but still soft-hearted."

Christine started singing the part where Belle begins realizing that her captor wasn't the monster he'd seemed to be initially, carefully applying her tutor's instructions. She was anticipating the moment when Erik would start singing, never having heard his voice in song before, only occasionally to fix her intonation. But as soon as he began, Christine knew it was the most rich and beautiful singing voice that ever graced her ears. In her mind, she even joked that it might be dangerous to listen to such a thing, for its sheer perfection was so magnetizing and powerful that one could easily fall into a trance from it.

The song finished and the young woman was practically out of breath, feeling only the pulsing of her heart.

"That improved greatly after I began, why didn't you do that the first time?" Erik questioned.

"Erik, your voice is magnificent. I think it helped me find the proper tones better."

"Well you must do it without me, for I am not an actor and will not be accompanying you."

"Are you thinking of helping Raoul too? I don't think he's quite as good."

The masked man cringed at the mention of the younger blond man.

"No. His parts are simpler than yours and don't require as much skill."

"Oh. Could we do that again? Or try it with one of the other songs? I enjoyed it."

His golden-brown eyes widened momentarily.

"Perhaps. Go back to what you were singing earlier and, if you do proficiently, I'll perform to your request."

This motivation pressured the brunette into doing exactly as he asked, desperately wanting to hear his angelic voice singing with her again; she would love hearing it on its own just as well. This time was better than any other time during this lesson and so Erik kept to his word to sing something with her, the song happening to be the one played during the waltz.

The instructor first explained what the piece was meant to achieve for the story, how it was a confession of the two characters being devoted to one another. It starts with Belle's slow understanding of her true feelings and switches over to the Beast's easing fear of her, likely, disapproval of him. The Beast had always known that this girl enchanted him ever since he saw her in the dungeon with her father, but only now was he almost certain that she returned his feelings. Belle, on the other hand, was brilliant but unaware of her changing feelings until this night, when she remembers everything he'd done to be better towards her, and it strikes her like a lightening bolt as she stands calmly at the top of the ballroom staircase.

Erik's nimble fingers played the introduction of the song on the piano, giving Christine a cue to begin. Having only seen the piece once before, she kept her eyes fixed on the paper and saw the patterns written in the music in order to better understand the music, giving her the ability to predict which notes were likely to come next. Her singing was uninterrupted, which meant that Erik hadn't completely disapproved of her singing yet just as her verse ended and his started.

He sang with some effort, losing his train of thought as he noticed his student's intent gaze fixed on him as he sang for her. This only inspired him to work harder, greatly improving the quality of voice that was echoing in the open room. Now nothing restrained him, especially since the Daroga decided against being a nuisance during their lesson for today. His deep tenor soared, completely and unknowingly, capturing Christine's soul in doing so. She followed intuition once her character was meant to sing again, following the lead of her instructor as both of their voices intertwined in the melody. Her feet subconsciously stepped closer to the piano and an inner feeling of selfish desire wished to be closer to this voice of artistic perfection.

Their voices softened for the last line, meant to be a mere musical whisper shared between the unusual couple, and Erik played the last chord to resolve the whole piece. Internally, he felt as though all the remaining emotion in his heart had been emptied into singing the piece with Christine. But his exterior was as collected as always. The actress was somehow standing beside him now, completely unrepelled by him, and his peripheral vision caught the heaving of her chest after finishing.

"Are you out of breath?" He asked.

"No. That was just invigorating for only singing a song."

"How did you manage to get over here from where you were standing earlier?"

"My feet, apparently. I don't think I can fly sir."

"Of course not, I'm simply surprised." He stated, immediately regretting having said anything in the first place.

"Surprised? What for?"

"Never mind that, you did much better."

"No, now you've made me curious. Answer my question Erik." The brunette pleaded.

"It was only slightly shocking that someone like _you_ actually came closer to an individual like myself, rather than staying away at arm's length."

"Well, I'm certainly not perched over your shoulder so I'm not _that_ close to you. And I don't see why it matters so much."

He huffed in frustration: "Why?! Because, you stupid girl, it isn't impossible to come to a conclusion about this!"

His hands came up from the keyboard to motion at the covered side of his face before he continued.

"I am not hiding anything lovely under this mask. It's dreadfully uncomfortable, you know, so I do _not_ wear it solely for decoration. And if you must know, even though curiosity killed the cat, my face is nothing but a death's head brought to life. The uncovered side is the only part of me that isn't the appearance of death walking in human form."

Christine, feeling brave, spoke up in hopes of easing his anger: "If it is that discomforting, please take it off."

At this, he laughed almost maniacally, "Ah, you prying thing! I take it you admire the story of Persephone and her trip to the Underworld! There is no other possible explanation for your interest of the repulsive and deathly thing that is myself."

"I only want you to feel at ease in your own residence, sir. After all, I am the student and you're my instructor. I have no reason to object to anything you do."

"Yes, but my anger will not be due to my shame of anyone witnessing this atrocity. It will be from that reaction of disgust, or worse- pity. I had no control over my fate and I don't wish to be treated as an outsider, as a mangy dog that lost a leg and limps on the streets only to be treated nicely out of pity for my condition. It does not hinder anything but my appearance, which seems to matter _oh so much_ to everyone in this damned world."

The words were taken from Christine's mouth and she didn't know what to say to Erik, knowing his explanation rang with truth. She did feel bad that he was likely maltreated for his outward appearance, for he was an absolute genius in all other regards.

Erik excused her, forcing her to leave right then and there, almost pushing her out the door. As the door closed harshly, she could swear that she heard crying inside the room followed by something being broken. Her instructor had an awful temper, but this was who he was besides the strict teacher and artistic master. This was his singular downfall, as in all else he only sought to create things to the best of their ability. His phases of frustration only resulted in destruction.


	7. Chapter 7: Guardian

A mind clouded by swirling thoughts of worry and regret made for a mental hurricane, as well as a completely sleepless night. Christine remained silent but wide awake into the late night, lying aimlessly in her bed and staring up at the Victorian-style crown molding framing the ceiling. _Why did I have to pry at his discomfort? It was so careless and ignorant of his obvious discomfort!_

Some strange rustling noise distracted her briefly, rushing adrenaline through her veins. She pulled the puffy blanket further over her face and tried to listen carefully for any other suspicious sounds. Now her guilt had turned to fear upon hearing rustling behind her door and hushed male voices.

There was a loud clang and Christine knew she had to get out of the room. She remembered that the other door in her room led out to a hallway, thinking that perhaps Erik could help her even after what happened earlier. After all, this was possibly a dangerous situation and it would be better to ask for his help (and forgiveness) rather than to hope for the best.

So the young brunette snuck out of bed as quietly as possible, trusting that her former ballet experience would help her footsteps be silent. Her delicate hand softly unsecured the lock and turned the doorknob, shutting the door afterwards then tip-toeing towards Erik's flat. The young girl whipped her head around to check if anyone saw her escape before gently knocking on his door, still peering over her shoulder in case someone was around.

The door was shortly opened, an unimpressed-looking Erik standing in its place.

"What brings you here this late at night?" He questioned monotone.

"I think there's someone in my room." Christine whispered, eyes widened in fear.

The masked man raised an eyebrow and momentarily appeared lost in thought before continuing: "Well, then, by all means, come inside. I'll deal with the potential miscreant."

"Thank you so much, Erik. And about earlier, I'm terribly sorry for wha-"

"No, don't worry yourself, there's a much bigger problem at hand." He assured her, pushing himself out of the door and going to Christine's unlocked bedroom.

The young girl crept into her instructor's _salon_ and seated herself on the leather couch, feeling a bit awkward at the circumstances as well as how silent it was. Luckily, the silence was soon broken by the Daroga coming out of the guest bedroom. He appeared quite shocked to see Christine sheepishly smiling at him with anxiety in her blue eyes, and Erik nowhere in sight.

"Hello. It is late, what are you doing here?" The surprised older man asked politely.

"I heard someone in my room and came here for help. Erik went to go see what was going on." The girl explained.

"Ah, I only hope my friend keeps to the promise he made me if there truly is an intruder."

"And what was that?"

There was a nervous pause between the two and Christine quickly defended herself: "Sorry, I shouldn't pry like I did earlier. I'm only curious, especially in this situation."

"It's only natural to want an explanation, particularly towards such a mysterious person as Erik. He is high-strung and often ill-tempered, so it is not entirely your doing."

In the meantime, Erik was inside of Christine's bedroom listening for whoever she'd heard minutes ago, peeking through the very slightly ajar door. At least the girl wasn't delusional- there were indeed multiple men outside of her bedroom, each one armed with some form of weapon and dressed entirely in black. An inconspicuous trunk placed between them was being filled as they placed expensive items from the flat inside of it. The masked man was plotting his entrance, feeling comforted that he'd taken the familiar Punjab lasso with him. He held the catgut rope behind his back and widened the door calmly.

"Ah, gentlemen. Do excuse me, but I believe that this is _not_ your residence?" Erik stared at them intimidatingly.

They all froze, staring up at the unknown figure before them.

The man appearing to be the leader spoke up first: "This is the room of Christine Daae. What are _you_ doing here?"

"Just being helpful. Now I suggest you leave emptyhanded immediately before I'm forced to take further actions." Erik threatened.

"Ha, like what?" One of the other men chuckled.

Another intruder piped up as well: "Yeah, I bet you're some invalid with that mask on your face and can't do a thing."

"I am no pompous windbag, I assure you. This is your final warning, leave now or face me. You have ten seconds to decide." Erik stated blankly, receiving no response from the thieves.

Pulling the lasso out from behind his back, Erik continued: "Alright, you give me no choice."

He swung the rope out at the ringleader's neck, neatly asphyxiating him in a moment, and looking at the others. The man had been wielding his large club menacingly but to no avail against the expert assassin's lasso skills. Bulging eyes told Erik all that was necessary to know about his opponents- their fear would drive them out of the room without any more of his intervention. The remaining men vacated the flat hastily, resulting in Erik's triumphant expression while folding back the catgut. He left Christine's room and returned to his own, a tinge eager to announce his success.

Christine nearly jumped out of her skin as the door opened up behind her, fearing that Erik might've been overtaken by the hooligans. A breath of relief passed her lips at seeing her instructor's thin and familiar frame coming inside. The Persian smiled at his friend as if to notify him that he was aware of the circumstances and received a good enough explanation.

"Well? Please don't tell me I was just being silly." The innocent girl asked.

"You have a well-trained ear, Christine. There were, in fact, four thieves in your room trying to steal various objects from your flat and I don't doubt that they would've done worse had you not escaped in time." Erik informed.

"Well done, dear girl." The Persian complimented.

"Oh, thank you ever so-" Christine began, standing up from her seat with outstretched arms.

The masked man stood stiffly as her warm body embraced his colder one, very much personally unfamiliar with such a gesture. She released him too soon and flashed a dazzling smile at him. As her voice babbled on in gratitude to her guardian, Erik's mind was busy thinking about the foreign twisting of his stomach and strange delight from the interaction. He believed he came to a realization, but quickly shook off such an impossible thought. Christine was like a glittering star in the night sky- untouchable and completely unattainable, lest he wanted to burn up in the process of doing so.


	8. Chapter 8: Invitation

"Raoul! You look absolutely ridiculous in that costume!" Christine giggled hysterically, seeing her co-star finally dressed in his Beast outfit.

There were shaggy patches of fake hair glued on to each of his face, right over his cheeks, as well as in various other areas- forehead, knuckles, wrists, below the knees, etc. He was practically unrecognizable under all of the makeup, hair, and baroque-ish costume. Undeniably, the get-up was wonderfully done, but it was too amusing for Christine to remain straight-faced.

"Miss Daae, Mr. de Changy? On set, please." One of the crew members called out from a megaphone.

The two actors hurried onto the dungeon set, seeing the man playing Belle's father already stooped over the stone floor inside the fake cell and the various directors watching from behind the cameras. Christine immediately recognized the stark white of Erik's mask among the small crowd of men and smiled in greeting. He didn't seem to notice her so she disappointedly took her place, crouching on the opposite side of the cell bars and waiting for their directions.

"And...action!"

The brunette's smoothed-out hair glided over her shoulder as she reached her arms through the metal bars, a look of great despair appearing over her visage. Her film-father's head shot upwards in disbelief, grasping her hand as if it was his lifeline.

"Belle! What are you doing here? You must leave at once! Bef-before th-the Bea-east finds y-you!" His voice trembled.

"What Beast? Father, you're frightening m-"

A booming door opened into the dungeon, forcing the two apart to stare up at the monstrous figure before them.

"Who dares to trespass into the dungeon of the Beast?!" A deep and menacing voice, somehow happening to be Raoul's, shouted with vengeance.

"Please, my father-" She began.

"Is a fool! I shall take you prisoner as well!"

"Let me take his place! He is of poor health and this cell is much too-"

"Enough!" The Beast silenced, pausing to think for a moment, "Would you truly replace your father as my prisoner?"

"No, Belle! I have lived my life, you are young-" Her father piped up.

"Silence, old man!" The Beast commanded.

Disregarding her father's words, Belle set her terms: "If you release my father, I will take his place and follow any conditions that were set upon him."

There was a lull in dialogue as the master of the palace took a moment to make a decision.

"I accept the proposal, you will now be condemned in this dungeon." He finally spoke, ensuring that the girl knew what she'd agreed to.

"Wait, step into the light." She prodded.

The Beast growled, obeying her single request and revealing his fearsome appearance in the dark lighting of the scene. His expression was harsh, chin held high in the air, as the girl's mouth dropped in horror.

But the scene was halted by the sound of "cut" being shouted from the directors.

Christine looked up expectantly, wondering what she had done wrong as she knew that the two other people in the scene were doing a splendid job. The men consulted with each other behind the row of cameras before acknowledging the actors. Erik was the one to speak up, seemingly irritated at the incompetence of the others.

"Why do you stand before her so proudly as a beast, de Changy?" He questioned in a tricky tone.

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir." Raoul responded, adjusting the discomforting neck of his shirt.

"You despise your appearance, yes? Behave as such. Show your power but do not forget that this is the character's insecurity." Erik chided.

"Yes, of course." Raoul nodded, walking back off of the set to re-attempt his entrance.

Each scene was shot in a similar way: the actors doing their job, stopping from the directors' (mostly Erik's) comments, and attempting to improve the scene under the instruction of the directors. Christine's mind felt fogged over by the time they finished with 2 other scenes and she only perked up at the shouted notification of "lunch". An energized glint appeared in her eyes, thinking of the opportunity to rest briefly as well as enjoy whatever was being served to everyone.

Once the actress filled a plate with various dishes on the elongated table, she lingered away from the crowd and stared at the intricacy of the set pieces currently being placed in front of the cameras for the next scene.

It was meant to be Belle's bedroom in the castle. Massive, deep red velvet curtains covered the false-window, each one gold-embroidered with the crest of the Beast's household, and heavy enough to topple someone over. On the stone wall there was a painting hung up, a Baroque masterpiece counterfeit. The bed itself was spacious, covered in white and pale green fabrics as well as a white canopy held in place over the dark walnut-wood posts. One of the actresses would be standing inside the intricately carved white-stained wardrobe and pretend to be a woman transformed into the furniture piece. For this reason, the wood carving appeared to have an illusion of a face etched into it.

"Lost in thought?" Raoul's voice teased from behind her.

She turned around, "Oh, just a tad. The pieces are pretty impressive."

"Lots of details in them, probably because that masked director complained that there weren't enough details in them."

"Erik? If he did, it certainly adds to the picture." Christine reasoned, feeling oddly protective of her tutor.

"Do you know him?"

"Well I live across from him, and he taught me a little for the singing parts in this project."

"So you're friends?"

"Not that much more than I am with you, Raoul. I'll make it up to you if you'd like to have dinner tonight after filming's over today. My manager wants me to get out more anyways." Christine said, trying to hide the shyness in her voice.

"I'd be delighted to accompany you, Christine." He accepted, sounding more assured with her affirmation.

They were called back on set a few minutes later, this time the scene not involving Raoul. But the blond-haired young man stood to the side and watched the masked director who seemed to be the only one critiquing everything. His scowling face focused primarily on Christine, Raoul wondered how his childhood friend grew to trust the man so quickly. Though he knew her to be kind and compassionate, he suspected that she was also still innocently naïve. As her caring friend, Raoul would ensure of Christine's safety around the man and who this Erik really was.


	9. Chapter 9: Cameras

A few small chandeliers and several candles illuminated the elegant setting, some low-volume string quartet providing background noise outside of the utensils clinking on plates and meager conversations amongst diners. Christine and Raoul were included in this mass of people, sitting more quietly in comparison to the others.

"What were you up to all these years?" Raoul questioned.

"Well, mostly just singing and minor acting. This would really be my largest production, which is why my agent keeps pushing me to be in the spotlight more so now than before. What about you?" Christine responded, folding her hands together politely.

"Theatre productions and a few smaller films were more my career specialty, although it took a while to show my family that it was a fitting job and I wouldn't possibly have another position. They wanted me to be a lawyer like my brother or a governor like my father, could you imagine?"

Christine chuckled, "No, I suppose not. You didn't seem to be a bookish and incredibly serious boy."

"Oh my father was so angry: 'All those years of private education- down the drain!' But he couldn't force me to be him or my brother, I would be awful at anything else."

"Sounds unfortunate."

"And my brother, he made such a fuss about it too."

"I'm sorry, Raoul."

"Eh, it was my own reckless decision, but at least I've gotten to meet you and been quite successful so far. But what of your family? _They_ must be proud of you being in the arts, I remember your father always playing the violin."

The girl stiffened a bit, "My father actually died, a little after that summer we spent together. I've trained with an opera since then, just staying with my friend and her mother."

"I'm sorry for mentioning it, Christine, I didn't know." Raoul apologized, discomforted at his own comment.

"It's really no problem, it was a long time ago."

Their simple conversation covered their pasts, not being particularly interesting for the young starlet who felt guilty for inviting her co-star out just because of Mr. Berman's orders. Her mission had been successful, as she noticed camera clicks and flashes every so often throughout the whole evening. None of the cameramen really bothered her, but they knew that it would pay off to capture "private" moments between the two stars of an upcoming film.

Once they finished their decadent meals, Raoul kindly led Christine out of the restaurant after paying and guided her down the street. But as soon as the pair exited through the doorway, a mob of bright camera flash-bulbs greeted them. These lights blinded the girl to the point where she solely relied on Raoul's arms to lead her along, but they soon pulled away from her tight grasp. He must've tried to escort her down the road by pushing away from the cameramen, but she wasn't holding on tightly enough to escape with him. Christine attempted to listen for his voice, but there was a cacophony of voices echoing her name and try to call for her attention.

Her feet blindly walked in small paces. That was, until a strong arm grasped hers and forced her body to move away from her position before the restaurant entrance. With a quickened heartbeat and sharp breaths, Christine immediately opened her eyes to peer at who'd saved her from the cameras. Of course, it was Erik again.

"Must you always be in less-than-ideal circumstances?" He teased, releasing her wrist once they were ducked in a quieter alleyway.

"Must you always be conveniently around to help?" She responded, only with a relieved smile on her face.

"Apparently so. What were you doing out here with the blond idiot anyways? It _is_ one of the busiest areas of this lively city and you aren't exactly a commoner."

"I happen to know Raoul from being childhood friends, he's no idiot. And he decided to come out here even though I proposed the idea."

"Ah, I see." Erik seemed to have a knowing tone in his voice.

"No, not like that. My agent keeps pushing for me to be in the public eye and won't leave me alone until he sees proof that I'm listening to him."

"Fire him and move on, he needs you more than you do him." He shrugged.

"I couldn't do that, he helped me from the start and I barely know what I'm doing now."

"Oh please, if you're decently level-headed you could easily manage yourself. Now let's get you back to your room. Or would you prefer mine instead, just in case some jewel thieves break in again?"

Christine chuckled in response, tucking her right arm into the crook of his elbow and expectantly waiting for him to lead the way. Erik, not being used to such an action at all, pulled his arm back towards his body momentarily in surprise but eased himself and strolled down the street with the lovely lady clinging onto his arm. It almost gave him an additional sense of confidence among other passersby, looking at them and seeing such a dark character with a beautiful, young lady beside him. Erik was still surprised at the fact that her motion was completely voluntary.

The masked man brought her to the doorway of her temporary residence and was further taken aback at Christine's invitation inside. He gladly accepted, knowing the Daroga was probably out enjoying his evening elsewhere and wouldn't miss him, marveling at the ornate detailing and light coloring of her flat compared to his. All of her furniture was in pale pastels or were made of rich, carved wood and elegantly decorated with pink flowers.

"Could I get you some tea, coffee maybe?" She offered cheerfully.

"No, thank you." He simply stated, seating himself on the white couch with a pale green pillow against his back.

"Thanks again for saving me back there. I think Raoul tried to pull me away but I wasn't holding on tight enough. He must be worried s-"

"Calm yourself, I'm sure he assumes that you made it out alright. You could call him later and reassure him, if you must. But now I think it would be smart to plan a way you could satisfy your idiotic agent without putting yourself in such situations. Or you could always fire him..."

"No, I would feel awful after everything he did for me. What would you suggest, Erik?"

"If he's so insistent on you being seen with important members of the cast, perhaps you could meet with the director of the entire studio itself. Explain it to him as a business proposal, potentially meaning you have more roles in films."

"I think that would be acceptable. And I doubt it would be as uncomfortable as pretending to be romantically involved with Raoul."

"Then I'll make an arrangement. Though I wouldn't think you'd be so distressed at being seen with your co-star in such an aspect."

"Oh goodness, he stands more like a distant family member to me. I knew him only in childhood and as a brother then. He doesn't have as much of a passion for music as I'm accustomed to, my father having been a traveling violinist who encouraged me to sing. Raoul was always intrigued by the Scandinavian ghost stories my father told us instead."

"Interesting..."


	10. Chapter 10: Dinner

A few more days of filming passed by like centuries, each one more tiring than the last. Erik informed Christine that she would meet with the studio director for dinner once she finished today's work. Mr. Berman also sounded eager from the phone at hearing this news. Perhaps even more than when he told Christine she was successful in gathering attention after going out with Raoul, maybe since a studio director could lead to many more career options for later.

This was meant to be the last scene they'd film for the day, Belle enjoying her first dinner in the enchanted castle as the candelabra and silverware put on a show for her. It wouldn't be exhausting for the young woman, she would only be sitting at the head of the table with a wonderous look on her face. But it was a complicated moment to stage for everyone else: moving props to look like they were alive, coordinating the actors' voices to their characters, sliding everything into place on time, etc.

Erik was a bit of a madman, only being restrained by the Daroga.

"How difficult," He paused dramatically, "is it...to drive a tea cart around her damned chair?!"

"Erik, calm yourself, the wheel got caught last time. One more take is needed to correct it." The Persian assured him.

"It had better only require one more take to get everything right." The main director piped up, looking up from his watch.

Another hour passed of various yelled instructions towards cast members involved in the scene. The only difficulty for the leading actress was to keep a smile on her face amidst directors' shouting, and possibly remaining seated for that long. She occasionally glanced over towards Erik, as if asking how much more time there was until filming ended today so she wouldn't be late for the meeting. He didn't seem to notice, only focusing on details of the set.

But Erik noticed every single time her blue eyes flitted towards him, internally softening his demeanor with their glow of happiness through the chaos. It didn't take much longer until the cast, most of them failing to meet his expectations, wore down the rest of his patience. He also couldn't stand seeing Christine watching him from a distance every few seconds without being able to respond to her.

"Daroga." The masked man muttered under his breath once everyone began to leave the set stage.

"What is it, Erik? You seem more unstable today."

"Your remarks are unnecessary. Christine has a dinner arranged with the owner of the studio producing this film. She has never met the man."

"Ah." The Persian nodded knowingly, leaving his friend alone.

In the meantime, Christine's makeup artist was delighted to help the girl prepare for her meeting while she pondered what this man would be like. She was used to men in the industry thinking her to be a typical actress only interested in the latest fashions or to live in luxury, resulting in the girl just being an object for these men to enjoy temporarily. But the idea of such a thing was disgusting to her.

A stylish evening gown had been purchased yesterday after filming for this dinner. It was a white silk number that accentuated her slim waist and was embroidered in black at the bottom of the floor-length skirt, which raised in the front to her knees. For the occasion, it seemed a bit formal but Christine hoped to make a good first impression upon the man. Her makeup artist applied some more mascara and eyeliner to her face, slightly maturing her youthful visage.

"You look absolutely perfect, Miss Daae." The woman smiled, watching Christine's reflection in the mirror putting on a pair of small diamond earrings.

"And it's all thanks to you, Camille!" She said, hugging the woman briefly before bidding her a good evening.

The restaurant happened to be a block away, as per Erik's instructions. Black iron gates enclosed its outdoor tables, each one covered with a crimson cloth, white candles, and perfectly set utensils beside gold-lined plates. Seeing the upscale setting, Christine felt much less overdressed in her gown. With a deep breath, she entered through the glass doors and walked up to the mahogany hostess post.

" _Bonsoir mademoiselle_. _Je parle anglais si ne cessaire_." The younger blonde lady smiled.

" _Bonsoir_ , I'm meeting a gentleman and my name is Christine Daae."

"Ah, come with me. He has been waiting for you." She informed in a lovely accent, leading Christine towards a more private area of the restaurant.

"For a short time, I hope?"

"Yes, arrived a few minutes before you."

"Thank you." Christine smiled, seeing the lady motion towards the corner table a few feet away.

Her nervous gaze traveled forward to see whom she was meeting, eyes widening in realization. This man, the studio owner, was none other than the sharply-dressed masked man who she only knew as a musical director. Noticing her arrival, Erik turned his head to smirk lightly at the surprised actress.

"What have you been playing at?" Christine questioned, narrowing her blue eyes.

"Nothing at all, dear girl. Join me at the table, if you please." Erik responded, standing up from his seat to push in Christine's chair after she sat down.

"Thank you." She muttered quietly, still suspicious of him for being coy all this time.

"You look marvelous, Christine. And quite astonished at seeing me."

"Are you really the owner of the studio?"

"Yes, I believe that's been made clear."

"Then why did you make it sound like it was someone else?"

"Can't I have a little fun? Besides, you'd think I was up to something if I hadn't kept my true title away from you."

"I suppose you're right."

Erik ordered nothing but some exquisitely pricey wine while Christine ordered a modest dish. The brunette was still in a bit of a shock at his news, mostly asking him more questions.

"Curious tonight, are we?" Erik teased.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be? To me, you were just the strict musical director who, for some reason, imposed on every filming to be nit-picky." Christine fired back.

"Ah, afraid I _am_ in charge of the entire project. Music just happens to be my specialty and artistic passion."

"I'd ask to see a composition or something, but you've already judged the way I've sung your music."

"Perfectionism is a trait of mine." He paused, "Now that I think of it, do _you_ have some hidden talent or secret I am unaware of?"

"Not at all, I'm an open book. You already know about my father and this unreleased film I'm in."

"Then, if you do not feel discomforted, tell me about your father. I only know of his passing and violin-playing abilities."

"Fine. Only if I get to ask you a question in return."

"Deal."

"Gustave Daae was his full name and he never wanted any riches for our family, though his wife had died in labor from me. We didn't live poorly, I had a golden childhood, but nearly every day consisted of him performing at a fair or sidewalk and occasionally me singing along."

"An honorable man."

"He was. And what Raoul remembered was how he would recite old ghost stories his grandfather told him as a boy, back in Sweden. Perhaps that's why I have an affinity for the mysterious."

"You _are_ quite an interesting character."

"How flattering, I'm really very simple. Music is the only field in which I have skills in."

"Undoubtedly. Now what was your question?"

The rest of the surrounding tables were vacant and Christine bit her bottom lip anxiously before saying anything.

"May I ask about your mask? I wouldn't want to aggravate you if the subject is uncomfortable."

Erik already felt tortured at the sight of the girl taking her soft pink lip in between her teeth. But this question was taunting him, a test of patience from God. The Daroga was not here to hold him back from bursting with anger.

"That is something I'd only be willing to answer in complete seclusion. Easier shown than explained, since you clearly are pressed to find out."

The man felt as though his chest was constricted, unable to give in to the fury threatening to unleash itself. Christine, on the other hand, felt relieved that he was being less protective over this secret. She finished her meal, disgruntled that Erik absolutely insisted on paying for everything, and followed him out towards their building.


	11. Chapter 11: Unmasking

The pair returned to their building, both internally very emotional. Christine felt excited, mind racing in thought of what lay beneath the mask, and yet there was a fear of how Erik would react. His Persian friend made it clear to her that his temper could be a raging fire, incapable of being controlled. The masked man was much more aware of the porcelain accessory upon his face, knowing that his heart couldn't deny Christine's request but also fearing her response. The distortion was no small matter- his own mother pushed him away for its deathly appearance.

Up the creaky elevator they went, the air seeming to buzz with nervous energy. The girl seemed to be studying her fingernails in distraction to the man beside her, even as the elevator doors dinged open. Erik attempted to appear confident, offering his hand to Christine as they walked towards his flat's doorway. Somehow, he knew that the Daroga was already inside and simply knocked rather than use the key in his pocket.

"Ah, good evening Christine! And you as well, my friend." The kind Persian smiled, welcoming them inside.

"Go occupy yourself. There is business to attend to that doesn't involve you." Erik dismissed him.

Christine felt embarrassed at his rude behavior towards such a compassionate friend. She sat on the leather couch across from her new friend, clasping her hands together as if to compose herself. The room was well-lit by the small chandelier on the ceiling but there were also a few candles illuminating each corner, likely just for aesthetic pleasure than to light the room.

Erik kept his golden-brown eyes gazing downwards at the rug-covered floor. His heartbeat was about to burst from his chest, fingers barely able to fight the urge to fidget in his lap, and he was lucky this time that he mask hid part of his anxious expression.

"If you are terribly uncomfortable, I will take bac-" The young woman started, lifting her hands in reassurance.

The man interrupted, "No I must do this sooner or later, may as well get it over with."

His boney hands reached upwards, noticeably shaking in doing so, and stopped at the bottom of the mask's edge. There seemed to be an inner battle in his mind, fighting over just ripping it off or perhaps letting Christine take back her request. A minute seemed to last forever, and his hands fell back down to his lap. Erik's body limply leaned back onto the couch in anguish as he groaned.

"This is more difficult than I'd hoped." He muttered.

"If you're sure this is fine, maybe it would be easier if I took it off for you?" She offered.

The idea drifted through his mind, weighing the benefits against any drawbacks. This seemed to be the most logical thought, and so he agreed to it.

A light-hearted smile of encouragement appeared over Christine's rosy lips, sending the man's heart to an unwilling flutter. Her hand slowly reached for the same place his had been moments earlier. With a shared deep breath in and out, she pulled off the piece of porcelain.

As she silently studied his uncovered face, the mask remained in her hands which were placed gently over her lap. Starting from the bottom, Christine took notice of his swollen lip and the frailness of the skin stretched precariously over his angular cheek. There were white lines of scarred flesh over this cheek that looked to be fading. In the center, his nose wasn't as defined as most people's were and only consisted of an imperceptible bump with nostrils to each side. Below his eye, the darkened skin was sunken in like a crater. The light-colored eyebrow above was unnoticeable and his forehead had more of the white scars strewn across it. To the side of his head, there was a deeper pit that seemed to be more of a wound, being the same crimson shade as blood.

While the actress was examining his face, Erik also watched hers for any reaction that he'd expected: fear. Her blue eyes expectedly widened as soon as she removed the mask, but the girl hadn't begun to scream nor run away. The silence was burning him, he needed to hear her say something and explain her thoughts rather than keep them locked away in her head.

"Well?" He asked, a tone of irritation seeping into his powerful voice.

"I truly don't understand why you're so defensive, it's not nearly as bad as you make it out to be." She calmly stated, looking him in the eyes.

"You lie!" He shouted, narrowing his gaze suspiciously.

"No Erik, I'm being honest." Christine swore, keeping her stare at his eyes.

"How _can_ you say such a thing! I am a living corpse, punished all throughout life for this face...and yet you have the audacity to tell me it _isn't that bad_." He snarled like a vicious beast.

"I had no knowledge of your previous life. Those people who punished you were awful, please don't express any anger towards me for their actions."

"Maybe _that_ is why you tell me such things! To stop my wrath from reaching you!"

"No, I truly mean them. What do I have to do to prove it to you?" She cried out.

He didn't seem to pay any mind to her. Instead, Erik's hand grasped Christine's wrist and held it up to his cheek, briskly pressing her palm to the thin skin.

"Feel my face, how wretchedly revolting it is! Then you should understand its horror, the abhorrent deformity that has tormented me my entire life."

At this, the girl couldn't help but cry. She was afraid her hands being pulled across his face hurt him through the fragile skin and of his strange, almost mad, state. Erik took her pained tears as expressions of disgust or pity, both of which he loathed and shouted at her for. This, of course, didn't help the girl stop crying.

"Erik stop! I only cry because I don't wish for me to hurt your face, but you're not letting go of my hand!"

"It causes me no physical pain. But your pity revolts me more than my face has ever revolted anyone."

Hearing shouts and cries, the Daroga rushed into the room without a care for Erik's instruction to leave them alone. He was shocked that his friend was unmasked, especially before the girl. What wasn't surprising were her tears and his wild rage. But from his eavesdropping, he knew Erik was only confused at Christine's lack of fear towards him.

"Both of you, stop. Mostly Erik needs to calm himself." The older man commanded.

"I told you not to c-" Erik began.

"I do not care, there was yelling and I had to step in. Is it so difficult for you to comprehend that there are people who won't maltreat you for your appearance, Erik? You are brilliant in many ways but in this you seem blinded by self-deprecation."

"How _dare_ you start with that claim!"

"Because it is the truth. Now Christine, I only ask you to understand my friend's outburst. If he cares to explain in detail, he may reveal exactly what horrific situations he has overcome due to his face and simply is in shock from a different viewpoint."

"I understand." She said, voice barely above a whisper as her hands wiped away the tears on her cheeks.

"It would be best if we all retired for the night, it has been very eventful." The Daroga suggested, ushering Christine over to her own bedroom across the hall.

The girl welcomed sleep, not even bothering to remove the beautiful gown she was still wearing. Only the earrings and hairpins were set carefully upon the nightstand as Christine collapsed onto the soft bed. Once her head hit the pillow, she slipped into a deep sleep and dreamt of old memories. It was as though her mind wanted to be relieved of the night's woes by thinking of the warmth and fondness of past experiences.


	12. Chapter 12: Ballroom Scene

**A/N: I had to re-write this like 4 times because it didn't save correctly & I died every time this part of the story vanished. Comments are appreciated and thanks for reading!**

* * *

The morning wasn't as forgiving, even after the last evening's events. A shrill phone ringtone woke Christine up from her restless state of almost sleeping, forcing her to lean over to the side of the bed and stop its dreadful clamor.

She cleared her voice briefly before answering: "Hello?"

"Well, how was last night?" Mr. Berman's deeper voice responded, cutting to the chase.

"Eventful." She chuckled bitterly, running a hand through her messy curls.

"Eventful? I only saw a few photos of ya! That means the photographers got a nice paycheck but _you_ didn't get much buzz for it. Where were ya hidin' anyways?"

"In some restaurant close to the studio. The table was further away from everyone else- it was much less nerve-wracking and discomforting than when I was out with Raoul."

"Get over that, you're an actress who thousands of people see on the screen. Ya can't have _nerves_."

Christine was tired of the constant pushing and assertions that she wasn't supposed to feel a certain way. How was she supposed to quell her own anxiety?

"I'm sorry if this sounds brash, but I don't like the pressure you always put on me to throw myself onto people! It makes others assume the worst about me and that just makes me feel more nervous around them. Even the studio owner told me to get rid of that kind of pressure at last night's dinner, and he's had so much experience in the industry." She confessed.

"Are you _firing me_?" He questioned menacingly.

"No...just trying to tell you that I don't like how forceful you are towards me. I trust your judgement but not when it makes me feel so terrible. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready for filming today. Goodbye."

The girl placed the phone back down before hearing her agent's voice respond. With a sigh of relief, she was ready to start the day and slid out of the warm bed to get dressed. Her poor hair stylist would have to put up with the brown, barely-tamable ringlets once she arrived at the studio later and smooth them out.

Erik hadn't been able to find rest either, instead staying up all night to play and compose music on the baby grand piano in his residence. The Daroga complained in the morning over a cup of coffee with dark circles under his eyes, telling his friend that the noise was simply too much to bear. Of course it was very beautiful, just not very sleep-provoking.

But the masked man didn't respond, standing at the edge of the balcony and staring out into the cityscape as the sun rose to create soft pink hues over the sky. How could Christine possibly even try to have a conversation with him? He'd really done it this time. There was no chance that the reserved girl could consider facing someone who revealed themselves to her as such a monstrous being. And her sorrowful tears only made things worse in his mind.

"Erik, it is already seven minutes past the time you normally leave." The Daroga informed him, shaking his shoulder.

"Ah yes, but what is it for? I'm not necessarily required to be there and perhaps I will be assumed ill." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"What for? You retake every scene at least five times to correct the tiniest of details."

"Yes because they are all imbeciles."

"Including Christine?"

"No, she seems to understand the demeanor of the character. How ironic under the current circumstances!"

"Well you must get to work now before they ruin the film with whatever you deem to be imperfectly done today. Better not to waste a day's work." The Persian urged.

Erik huffed, lingering through the room a short while before exiting out the door. His timing was perfect: there was perfect little Christine in a simple, blue A-line dress and her mane of tangled hair locking the door behind her before departing for the elevator. A quickened heartbeat and sick feeling of fear in the pit of his stomach made it even more uncomfortable for him as he followed her.

She turned inside the elevator, blue eyes widening momentarily, and smiled cheerfully: "Good morning, Erik."

He was caught by surprise- the girl wasn't apprehensive towards him even after the revealing of his maddening temper.

Erik smile half-heartedly back: "Good morning, Christine. I assume your agent called you?"

"Oh don't even mention him, what a frustrating person he is to deal with! I usually don't have problems with other people but he can't seem to understand that some people can't just ignore things that bother them!"

"Will he be looking for new employment today?"

"No, I couldn't bear to fire him. It was only a warning."

"Compassion, something I don't seem to possess so excuse me for sounding so unattached."

"Not at all. If you're too nice to people they begin to walk all over you."

Erik nodded at her very valid point, the doors just dinging open on the bottom floor and releasing them to work. Together, they walked down a few blocks to the studio. Their discussion didn't dare to venture towards the topic of last night, each of them not wanting to revisit that memory. Instead, the beautiful Parisian architecture that caught Christine's eye and Erik's expertise in it seemed to be the central focus of their discussion.

They entered the studio together, attracting the attention of the few people already inside. Christine asked him for advice, as the vital ballroom scene would be filmed today. Instead, Erik grumbled a sarcastic comment about Raoul's incapability to be serious enough in his costume and urged the girl to act the same way she had been previously. Upon seeing a nearby clock on the wall, Christine rushed off to prepare her appearance for the role.

It took two hours just to finish her hair. First, the stylist smoothed out all of the messy, natural curls of Christine's thick hair and then she had to fashion each section into uniform ringlets. Her simple makeup remained practically the same- only changing with the slight addition of thin eyeliner and short false eyelashes.

But the gown was the show-stopping element of her ensemble. Instead of being a gaudy yellow, the material glinted in a shade of mellow gold. The bodice was tight and extended from her waist up to the sweetheart neckline, only being supported by off-shoulder tulle sleeves. The sweeping skirt was dotted with embellishments, ruching hold up by tiny rosettes, and it shimmered with the slightest of movements.

Everyone peered in astonishment at the exquisite girl who truly appeared as a princess in her full glory. Christine rushed as quickly as she could on her frivolously-designed 18th century heels towards Erik, seeking his approval.

"Is it suitable?" She asked hopefully.

" _Suitable_ does not encompass my opinion." He said, no evidence of emotion in his voice.

"Oh..." Christine began to sound disappointed.

"I meant that your appearance is ravishing- _more_ than just suitable."

Her jovial smile reappeared, "Thank goodness! I was worried for a moment that you didn't like what the stylist chose. You should really try to sound more emphatic on certain matters."

"I will keep that in mind. Now go to the top of the staircase and wait for the music."

Raoul stood opposite her as a few plucked notes of a harp signaled the start of the scene. The two actors glided gracefully down the staircase, both expressing their characters' enchantment solely in their faces and motions. This whole scene was without spoken dialogue, leaving the attention to the delicate music and the ornate ballroom set.

They joined hands at the bottom of the white marble staircase, positioning themselves into that of two waltzing dancers on the muraled floors just beneath the massive gold chandelier. As Raoul expected, the scene was soon halted by a shout from the directors' row of chairs. It was, of course, Erik reminding him in a biting tone to be more gentle. The scene was restarted.

Raoul snickered, he suspected that this individual man always had a problem with something he did because of admiration towards Christine and a slight jealousy towards him. After all, practically every time Erik stopped the scene was during an intimate moment between the pair and he objected to how careless Raoul seemed to act.

The music started over again, this time Raoul ensuring his every move has methodical and slow. Waltzing across the ballroom floor was heavenly, especially since Christine was a wonderful dancer even in her ridiculous shoes. But the music was echoing its last chords, signaling the couple's dance to gracefully end as Raoul pulled her into a gentle kiss. The motion proved to be slightly difficult with his short, costume fangs peeking up from his bottom lip. He still managed to feel Christine's soft mouth on his own, but the moment was cut off again.

"Did I not instruct you to be more delicate?" Erik questioned sardonically.

"Yes. But, by all means, if I'm still not being delicate enough then it may help to have you illustrate exactly what you mean. I've tried to make my movements very gradual." Raoul explained.

The masked man groaned, rolling his eyes and pressing a skeletal hand to his face in anguish. He grumbled and stood up from his seat, making his way onto the grand set. Raoul was moved aside. The young actress stood silently, simply watching in curiosity of what was to happen.

Erik took Christine into his deceivingly strong arms, holding her in a perfect posture to himself and danced momentarily with her.

"Now, the last few notes are playing...and we slow down, maybe give her a little quarter-spin to show off the costuming..." The musical director began instructing.

"Alright." Raoul nodded.

"Then both of your arms must rest around her waist to illustrate a change in positioning and what's going on in the scene...and continue with the complete elegance through every tiny motion." Erik continued.

The confident man seemed to suddenly become almost nervous for what came next in the sequence. Of course, for a demonstration, he was meant to complete the rest of the scene for Raoul's benefit. But that would mean _he_ must kiss Christine.

Their height difference posed a small challenge. Erik was practically a full head-and-a-half over her and would have to lean down in a graceful manner. The next issue was Erik's self-control. Obviously he wouldn't be completely lost to incontinence but there was no way he could reveal any admiration towards Christine, which would be the difficulty.

But once his gaze peered into the clear blue pools of her eyes and stared at her doll-like face, he couldn't help himself. She knew what was going to happen, yet she didn't cry out in protest once he began to lean in. Rising up to her toes to meet him, her pink lips puckered slightly and felt the surprising softness of Erik's. She remembered the intriguing puffiness of his lips, now understanding why they felt so velvety against her own.

Time seemed to barely pass in that moment, filling each of their bodies with the feeling of fireworks in their veins. Erik's heart soared as he felt Christine's body move closer to his own, knowing that it was of her own accord. The girl felt her heart hammering in her chest, pressing her small hands up on his shoulders as if to pull him further down.

Too soon the moment ended and the realization of onlookers set in, bringing a blush to both of their cheeks.

Erik cleared his throat, "You see?"

Raoul tried to hide a smirk, "Oh yes, that was a very thorough demonstration."

"Then this better be the last time I have to restart the scene." Erik bargained, ordering for the music to be played from the beginning.


	13. Chapter 13: Palais Garnier

Fortunately, the ballroom scene only needed one more take to be acceptable for the directors (mostly Erik). Christine was finished for the day, the next part involving just the actors voicing the household items as they discussed the Beast and Belle. Erik's golden-brown eyes lingered over the girl's slight frame as she left for her dressing room until break was called and his attention was forced elsewhere.

The cast members were relieved to finally have some time at ease, not needing to stay in character or keep an eagle's eye on the scenes. Each of the directors stood up, happy to be out of their seats, and conversed like schoolgirls on their ways to get more coffee.

Erik was the last person to move from his position, looming behind the lollygagging cast members. This way, he also overheard some of his fellow directors' conversation on the way to the dining table and couldn't help but eavesdrop when they mentioned the leading actress.

Their cacophony of gossip was incredibly vexing to the masked man.

"That Christine acts so innocent, it's almost funny."

"Yeah, wasn't she involved with some James actor in a smaller film she did a few years ago?"

"Eh no need to look in the past, she went out with de Changy the other day and then had a very secluded dinner with the asshole director before going home with him."

"I wouldn't blame all those men for going along with her, she's beautiful and probably experienced after all of them.

The rage boiled inside of Erik. He cursed the Daroga for being otherwise occupied on this particular occasion, knowing that he needed someone to control his actions. Erik's impassioned heart could easily be swayed to commit crimes if the circumstance was serious enough. But now he would have to settle for shutting up the group with a smart remark.

"Any one of you would be more experienced in pleasing a male than _innocent little Christine_. Now remember not to besmirch the name of a individual you do not know, especially a kind one, unless you wish to put your job position on the line." Erik sneered from behind them, the power of his voice booming.

Half of the group was surprised at being overheard, feeling embarrassed at the masked man's vulgarity. The other half was unimpressed, ignoring his comment and continuing on their way. After a moment, the former group caught up to their nonchalant colleagues and left Erik to fume on his own.

The anger faded when Christine eagerly bid everyone good luck for the rest of the day. She was now dressed in a ruffled white blouse tucked into a cinched navy pencil skirt, looking incredibly professional besides her ponytail of ringlets. Her bouncing footsteps led all the way to the masked man, leaning a gentle hand over his shoulder.

"Goodbye Erik, please don't be vexed at everyone for the rest of the day. We _are_ trying to execute your artistic vision, even if you don't think so."

"Then they must try not to exasperate me." He snickered, returning the physical contact by twirling his slim finger through one of Christine's curls that draped across her shoulder.

She chuckled in response, waving a last goodbye to everyone and taking some food from the table before exiting the studio. It was a beautiful day outside. The sky was a pristine blue, not a cloud in sight, and the temperature was comfortably warm.

Other people wandered the metropolitan streets or dined at the outdoor tables of restaurants. Christine used the Seine to direct her pathway, seeing the Notre Dame in the distance and the _Jardins du Louvre_ behind.

With all of her work at the studio, the actress hadn't been able to see either of theses renowned landmarks and decided that she would do so the next time there was a break from filming. It would also be a necessity to ride a train to the Palais Versailles and see the Hall of Mirrors, though such a trip required someone to accompany her.

Her wide eyes peered over at shimmering fountains, golden pieces of certain lampposts or statues, and detailed architecture. It was by far the most beautiful city Christine had ever seen. The views and experiences within Paris, thus far, had been nothing but spectacular. Today, the plan was to visit the Palais Garnier.

But along the way, she ran into a familiar face.

It was Erik's Persian friend who'd been missing at the studio today. His warm smile brought one to Christine's face.

"Hello, did my friend exhaust you to the point of escape?" The Daroga joked.

"Good afternoon, and I'm not present in the other scenes today. Erik was quite nice to me today, which he'll likely tell you about later." She said, unknowingly alluding to their shared kiss.

"Undoubtedly so, he's very talkative at times. Where were you planning to go? If your plans are to go home, the building is back there."

"Oh, I thought of seeing the Palais Garnier."

"Wonderful! The art within the building is unimaginably detailed. Would you mind if I came along? Perhaps as a guide?"

"Not at all, I'm grateful of your offer."

And so the pair set off, continuing on Christine's route to the opera house and having a discussion.

"What were you doing today? I didn't see you at Erik's side at the studio today." The girl asked.

"A simple matter of business for my friend, though I could've dealt with the documents later this week."

"He seems a lot less composed without you around."

"And with _you_ around." The Persian muttered after a moment.

Her blue eyes narrowed in confusion, "What do you mean?"

He paused again, regretting that he may have revealed too much.

"It is quite clear that the man admires you, Christine. Everyone seems to have noticed, besides you and Erik himself."

The girl thought for a moment, refusing to accept this idea as being true. Erik was so secluded and didn't seem to wont for company or feel lonely.

"No, I think he's just friendly with me because I listen to him and follow his directions during filming. He gets very irritated with the people who talk between takes."

The Daroga shrugged, knowing she was still oblivious and not wanting to completely admit his friend being enamored with her.

"Perhaps you are right. Ah, and here we are, right before the Garnier."

The white building towered over them, two gold winged statues on its roof and numerous columns framing the large ports, each one containing a medallion meant to honor a famous composer. Three more statues matched the pale green color of the roof- two of which meant to resemble Pegasus and the one at the pinnacle being Millet's _Apollo_.

On each side, there were small murals sculpted into the building: the left represented architecture & industry while the right represented painting & sculpture. Eight more statues lined each of the doorways to portray an aspect of the arts presented inside the theatre. It was the definition of majestic, and this was only the exterior.


	14. Chapter 14: Stories

Erik already returned from the studio, fuming on the balcony and pacing over it. That Daroga still hadn't come back from his simple task and Christine wasn't in her room. He didn't bother to knock at her door or even leave his flat, it was too silent for the actress to be home. Usually, her cheerful voice would be nonchalantly singing a tune or speaking on the phone with her frustrating agent.

But that Persian should've long returned from retrieving a few documents. It wasn't that Erik felt incredibly concerned for the man himself, but that there was absolutely no reason for the Daroga to still be out. The sky was already beginning to darken and Erik scanned the view from his balcony to try spotting a familiar face.

While muddled in his thoughts, he failed to notice the pair in question walking through the entrance of the building. They soon arrived upstairs and came through the doorway, catching Erik by surprise momentarily before he made his way towards them.

"Ah, I see what took you so long to collect my documents Daroga. You found the company of Miss Daae and decided to drag on the task for another 3 hours." Erik scolded.

"Stop your complaining, I still have your papers in perfect condition. We simply ran into each other near Rue Scribe and Christine expressed that she wished to see the Garnier. I decided to accompany her-"

"And delay the process of bringing me vital paperwork that could result to the downfall of my company if I didn't have it finished in time." The masked man interrupted, sounding a tad melodramatic.

"You're exaggerating, my friend. And I wanted to ensure that Miss Daae did not get lost or troubled in any other way."

Christine piped up for the Daroga's sake: "I'm truly grateful that he _did_ accompany me, I surely would've lost my way back. And he was very kind to give me a tour of the Palais Garnier."

Erik's tone softened, "Fine. But do not cause such a delay in giving me my business deal papers again, Daroga."

The Persian agreed to his terms, walking off to the kitchen to prepare some tea. The young woman seated herself on the sofa beside Erik's standing position. His expression reflected exasperation as he sighed and decided to sit down.

"How was the rest of filming today?" Christine asked.

"Don't bother to ask. I'm not entirely fond of people, especially those who take forever to finish whatever task I've given them. It's a wonder that the Daroga has remained in my company for so long."

"He's very caring towards you. While we were walking through the Garnier he would always speak kindly of you and your assistance in its upkeeping. Is there anything else you excel at but failed to tell me?" She smiled.

"Architecture was my line of work before showbusiness became more popular and I was offered a fair deal in the industry. Music, of course, is a passion of mine. From my travels, I've acquired a repertoire of languages to speak, and occasionally I can produce decent works of visual art."

"It's amusing that you call your talents'decent' when you do better than a master in the trade. I can barely draw a cat or play Fur Elise on the piano."

"That is highly improbable."

"And I love how you speak so formally. It's refreshing in comparison to the usual slang people use."

"Why should I sound like a commonplace idiot? It seems only right to do so." Erik shrugged, not quite understanding her fascination.

"You're a very unique person." Christine complimented, referring to his skills.

"Well I don't suppose you see too many people shielding the world from half of their face..." Erik responded, anger creeping into his voice.

"That's not at all what I'm talking about."

"What's refreshing about _you_ , dear girl, is that you have the gall to still be here after seeing the atrocity of my face."

"Gall? Only shallow people would solely focus on appearances."

"Then there are far too many people like that. You, Christine, have an enchanting appearance so people treat you with some respect. I, on the other hand, am not given such a luxury."

Christine's understanding heart ached for the despondent man sitting only a foot across from her. She moved closer to him, tightly holding him in an embrace that was, unknowingly to her, much more affection than he received from his own mother.

Initially, he was stiff as a board with his discomfort and lack of familiarity with such gestures. But the warmth of Christine's arms eased him into returning the motion, feeling his chest tighten at the feeling of this angelic girl pressing her head against it. One of his hands patted the soft curls of her hair, bringing unwanted tears to his eyes.

It was wonderful to feel another person so caring towards him without any personal benefit attached, besides his Persian friend. His heart warmed and beat harder, fueling a few wild thoughts to run through his mind. The worst part was that he couldn't stop himself from thinking that way, Christine seemed so willing! This perfect girl didn't even shudder at his touch or shriek at his face. But Erik wouldn't dare to do anything against her wishes and simply cherished holding onto her.

The Persian returned to the room, once again shocked at what he saw. It was a relief that Erik's mask was on- a clear sign that their tears were not due to Erik's incredibly short tempter and insecurity over his face. They pair didn't seem to notice the Daroga until he placed a tea tray onto the coffee table before them.

"What have I missed?" The older man questioned, sitting a slight distance away.

Their hug broke apart, Erik looking irritated after wiping away his tears and Christine forming a small smile despite her pain for Erik.

"A story of how cruel people can be." Christine responded, not quite sure if Erik was alright with her exposing any details.

"My mother." Erik explained.

"Ah, unfortunately one of the most mild of Erik's experiences." The older man sighed.

With a gold-rimmed porcelain tea cup in her hand, Christine sat up in surprise: "How could such a story be 'mild'? It's the source of the other troubles and the basis of conditioning Erik into believing that he wasn't wanted. Which isn't true, by the way."

"Interested in psychology, are we?" Erik mused, no longer wanting to be the subject of conversation.

"It's a recent social science and I enjoy reading." She explained curtly, "But that means much _more_ being his mother and all, not just some distant relative."

"Quite true." The Persian agreed, drinking a sip of tea.

"Are you finished talking about me? I'm not a specimen for you to examine, though that _has_ been tried before." Erik growled.

"If I knew who was responsible for such a thing, I would give them-" Christine began in a passionate energy.

"Hush. You're no tiger, just a kitten in comparison to those brutes who believed me a monster." The masked man silenced her and almost chuckled at her fiery side.

Erik continued to tell another story from his childhood, this one describing how he learned to play the piano. He was tragically forced to live like an animal after his mother sold him to a traveling circus, being shown off to disgusted audiences every night. If he ever refused to pull the burlap sack over his face, they would beat him into submission. There were always a few people who seemed to object to such brutality, but the circus always moved before police could intrude.

When the show was over for the night, one of the performers taught him to play a few tunes on the cheap piano in hopes that it would bring in more money. Usually, they were gloomy tunes to fit his fearsome appearance better and the theory making up the music fascinated him. The patterns remained in his mind, allowing him to create his own melodies with unimaginable complexities. His talent became very profitable.

Christine had, once again, fallen into a state of shock after the story. It was incomprehensible for her to think of how people could maltreat a child, no matter what he looked like. Years of pain likely stopped Erik from being affected when recalling such horrifying memories. He only began to cry again when the girl caught him in another tight embrace.

"I'm so sorry for blubbering, but- it-it's just so horrible. I c-can't bel-lieve someone could d-do that. And to a def-fenseless child!" She exclaimed.

"You have nothing to apologize for. Besides, I wasn't completely defenseless." He said, taking in a deep breath.

"Erik, are you su-?" The Daroga warned.

"Yes, Daroga, I know but Christine should learn the truth. I escaped one night when all of the people in charge went off to get wasted, the man who kept me came inside my enclosure with a whip in his hand. It was clear that he came to take out frustration on me and I grabbed a nearby rope, hurling it over his neck and squeezing before he could realize what it was." Erik breathed, looking away from the young girl to shield himself from her reaction.

"You killed him..." She whispered.

"Yes, your acquaintance is a killer- terrifying both inside and out!" He declared, trying to ward her away before she expressed any disgust.

"Erik, calm-" The Persian tried easing the tension.

"I'm not going to leave just because you shout at me!" The actress rose her voice, raising a sense of power she didn't know she possessed.

Both men looked up in surprise, seeing a hidden strength in the usually demure girl before them. Her chest heaved and there was a determination within her blue eyes as she waited for them to respond.

She only received a disappointing silence and the dumb look of astonishment on their faces.

"Thank you for the pleasant evening then, goodnight to you both." Christine said coldly and quickly left their flat to return to her own.

They heard the door across from their own slam, still bewildered by her outburst and sat for a few more moments of silence.

"How is this possible?" Erik said softly.

"What?" The Daroga asked in confusion.

"She left because we didn't say anything. Not because she's afraid."

"Clearly not." The older man chuckled.

"And this only tortures me further." He groaned, lifting himself up from the sofa and going to his bedroom to plop onto the ever-made bed in agony.


	15. Chapter 15: A Long Night

**A/N: I incorporated a little scene from Charade (1963). Thanks for reading!**

* * *

With emotions running wildly, Christine returned to her room and dramatically fell on top of the well-made bed. She stared at the ceiling, feeling her chest quickly rising and falling several times over. It was enraging to deal with Erik when he was so self-deprecating. The man couldn't seem to understand that she _didn't_ hate him.

And why did it always happen when the Daroga had been occupied? At least with him, Erik's temper could be abated before such an outburst. It was dreadful that the masked man experienced such awful things and then refused to believe that someone wasn't repulsed in learning the truth. Far too many emotions went through her body which left her confused and restless.

She got up from the bed, donned a white robe, and went downstairs to the café for something to drink. Unfortunately, she neglected to buy tea earlier so it was her only choice. The eatery area was quite vacant, only a few individuals sitting at the bar and nursing their alcohol. Christine seated herself at a table and asked for some tea from the bartender, having no other server available.

Her eyes focused on the small lily-of-the-valleys as the centerpiece. Now her mind wandered to the feelings swirling inside of her. There was obviously pity for the awful experiences Erik went through and care for him, but she felt more than regular compassion towards the man. His watchful gaze upon her during filming, the playful banter he shared with the Daroga, all of the knowledge he offhandedly revealed, his poised confidence, the rarity of his smiles...these observations added up in Christine's mind to one conclusion.

The bartender came out to bring her the tea, receiving an anxious smile and _merci_ from the actress. As soon as he stepped away, she sighed and kept her elbows propped up on the table so she could support her weary head with her hands. The realization was too much to bear at the moment for Christine. She lifted the plain white teacup and placed it down quickly upon hearing someone speak from behind her.

"Didn't expect to see you here."

 _Speak of the Devil_...

"Oh so we're just talking now, Erik?" Christine whirled around to face him as he came to sit across from her.

" _Perdon mademoiselle,_ but I don't understand."

"You shout at me to leave because you simply won't accept that I'm not shallow enough to solely focus on your appearance, and then push me away when I refuse to grant you what you say you want. It's ridiculous, the sheer number of times there have been people who don't believe me, not just a preconceived idea of me! Simply because I've been forced to play a brazen socialite. You, of all people, should understand but here we are." Christine burst out, chest heaving.

Erik's golden-brown eyes shined in surprise at her tone.

"Forgive me for making such a blunder." Erik said sorrowfully.

"Of course." She sighed sarcastically.

"Honestly. You are a talented artist in your field but posses an even more awe-inspiring attribute- relentless compassion. That is what I can't believe to be true."

She sipped her tea, paying no attention to his groveling.

Erik continued quietly, "And you have no idea how difficult it has been to keep my thoughts off of you."

At this, she turned her head and widened her blue eyes in wonder with a hint of a smile on her lips.

He teased, "You know what's wrong with your face right now?"

She shook her head, enchanted in whatever he was saying with his rich voice.

"Absolutely nothing. You are perfection itself which I find very hard to say, as a perfectionist."

Her composure faltered like the delicate structure of a pastry, and she stared at him in amazement. The tea was forgotten in the moment. Erik was pleased with himself, relieved that Christine hadn't rejected him.

"So what did you come down here for?" He asked.

"Oh, just for tea. But now I don't seem to have the desire for it."

"Perhaps you want to go back up to the rooms?"

Christine's yawn answered his offer. Her fatigue now was quite evident as her eyelids grew droopy and her walk lingered along slowly behind Erik. The dawdling was slowing down their journey back upstairs so the masked man decided the most efficient method of traveling with Christine in such a drowsy state would be to carry her to the elevator and then to her room. He also didn't even listen to her insistence that she was fine.

Her frame being quite light to Erik's strong arms, the trip wasn't so difficult. The covers of Christie's bed were still disheveled from her earlier caprice and the masked man placed her on top of them gently. The girl's eyelids were almost completely shut, but they widely reopened upon noticing Erik slipping away. Shadowed in the darkness with his entirely-black ensemble, it was almost impossible to see him.

"No, wait...come back." She mumbled, just loud enough for him to stop and follow her request.

"You must sleep, Christine. There _is_ work for you to do tomorrow morning." Erik reminded, standing awkwardly beside her bed.

"I know. You should stay- how will you lock the door behind yourself if you don't have a key?" She challenged.

He sighed, "That would be highly unsuitable."

"Oh sure," She said sarcastically with shut eyes, "It's not like I invited you."

"Fine, then what do you want me to do?"

"Well, I'm certainly not forcing you to sleep on a couch."

"You mean...I j-join you? In the s-same-" He stuttered to finish his sentence.

"Bed? Sure, it would be rude to coerce you to stay and then _not_ let you sleep comfortably." She stated with finality, pulling his forearm lightly towards her body.

"Very well."

Not wanting to keep Christine up arguing, he obeyed her order and sat stiffly at her side with his hands clasped over his lap. Her grip relaxed but still didn't release him as she fell asleep, her head curling towards Erik and now-natural curls splaying out from beneath it.

Having been accustomed to viewing things in the dark, the masked man took the opportunity to study this curious actress. Her expression was so peaceful and angelic in her sleep, only the moonlight shining through the window to illuminate her delicate features. The girl's soft pink lips moved slightly whilst dreaming, long dark lashes resting just above her child-like cheeks. A wafting fragrance of rose and vanilla found its source on Christine, an absolutely divine scent to Erik.

It seemed as though hours passed, him watching the brunette sleep out of enjoyment and also from not being used to resting. Whippings, shouts, screams, taunts, everything that pained him before... it never burned like this. Perhaps it was fate finally allowing Erik happiness, or it could be the worst cruelty he'd ever experience if Christine slipped away. Out of physical discomfort and reassurance of Christine being asleep, he removed the mask.

Staying with her turned out to be a benefit, for the girl soon began breathing increasingly deeply and furrowed her brows. A few fearful moans escaped her mouth and her hand reached again for Erik's arm in sleep. The state of nightmares was all too familiar to the un-masked man, having several horrors in his head to relive. It was absolutely necessary to wake her and end whatever she was suffering through.

Her clear blue eyes dilated as they quickly reopened, fixing solely on Erik's face and still breathing heavily. The ordinary composure of his was replaced by an obvious insecurity; Christine seemed to be scrutinizing every part of the wretched disfigurement. Unexpectedly, though, she instead squeezed his skeletal frame in an embrace and sought comfort in him.

"Are you alright?" He asked worriedly, for both of their sakes.

"Yes, it was just a nightmare." Her voice muffled from pressing against his shirt.

The wetness of her tears was soon very evident, suggesting that whatever Christine dreamt of was much worse that she let on. Erik smoothed her wild hair down with his hand, cherishing every second of their proximity. Minutes passed and her sobbing eased, leaving her to now grip Erik's torso against her own body as she cried herself back to sleep. The torture worsened. He could feel every single curve of her body and desperately tried to divert his thoughts. It would be a long night.


	16. Chapter 16: Distraction

"Miss Daae? Are you alright?" The main director questioned from his seat, stopping the scene for the sixth time.

She shook off her distraction, "Yes, thank you. I'm sorry for causing such a problem, this take should be fine."

The man shrugged and started yet another take. Christine forced herself to be as careful as possible in her acting and looked apologetically at Raoul, both for the scene and for making him suffer through another take of the wintery, snowball-fight scene. They both livened at tossing pre-made snowball props at each other playfully. Christine sang perfectly, but without true emotions. Everyone watching seemed impressed at her performance except for Erik. He was concerned for her state and needed her to be absolutely perfect at the song.

"Cut! Don't restart the whole scene, but the song must be re-done. It's practically emotionless and Miss Daae doesn't seem fully invested." The masked man commented, earning a groan from the blond actor playing opposite Christine.

"Sorry, everyone." The actress apologized again.

"Wait, don't begin yet. I want a brief conversation with you." Erik said, calling her over.

She sheepishly came over to his seat. The concern in his golden-brown eyes was obvious, even behind the mask.

"Are you really feeling alright?" He asked.

"I'm just tired. That nightmare kept me from sleeping properly and it's hard to focus right now when I feel so exhausted."

"Finish this scene and I'll excuse you. I just need more investment in the song from you to get the correct tonal quality."

She smiled, her eyes still fixed on the floor shyly: "Okay..."

"What is it?" He asked again, suspicious of her odd thoughtfulness.

Her blue eyes glanced nervously to ensure the gaze of others weren't staring at her. The cast seemed to have broken into conversation at the break. Christine inhaled deeply for a moment. Faster than the blink of an eye, she darted towards unsuspecting Erik and closed the distance between them by pressing her lips against his. Time slowed through the duration of their kiss and yet it seemed too short, for she pulled away teasingly to step back onto the set in her pink winter gown. There was a vixen's smirk on her soft lips as the directors called action again.

The brazen action seemed to be beneficial for her, inspiring Christine's voice to soar emotionally through the song in one take. The masked man stared at her intensely and let her leave as promised, feeling flustered at the girl's actions. This actress was temptation itself. In dreams, he would imagine kissing her for much longer, simply holding her in his arms, or possibly something more impossibly intimate.

Filming dragged on the rest of the day for Erik, his mind clearly somewhere else. Now this did not mean that he wouldn't correct minor errors, that was something he instinctually did. But everything reminded him of the lovely brunette. The Daroga would have to suffer through Erik's confessions of longing yet again and try to advise him.

But once the day ended, Erik practically flew down the street back to the building and found himself standing before Christine's door. His fist anxiously knocked on it, soon being answered by the smiling girl. It was clear that she spent her time relaxing in her flat- she donned a fluffy white robe, her curls were pinned up in a disheveled updo, all of the cosmetics were wiped off her face, and the diamond jewelry was missing from her body.

"Hello Erik, this is a pleasant surprise." She said, motioning for him to come inside.

He attempted to hide the discomfort sourced below his belt.

"Ah, well...it is wonderful to see you as well. Your singing was fantastic today."

"I was properly inspired for performing." She said, plopping down girlishly onto the couch with a cheeky glimmer in her eyes.

The masked man cleared his throat, "It was quite a stunt."

"Was it too improper of me? I wouldn't feel guilty even if you said it was."

"Ah Christine, you seem to know very well what you're doing and yet also appear to be unaware of the effects."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like a recovered drug addict getting a sample of his drug and being incapable of turning away the temptation even though he knows he must."

"I could say the same about you."

"If there hadn't been as many people, you would have...continued?"

She blushed, "Probably."

"Then I assume this is alright?" Erik asked, darting in just as she had before and connecting their lips together.

Christine was taken aback at his sudden boldness with her but kissed back feverishly, steadying herself by placing her hands on his shoulders. His arms remained circled over her waist, carefully holding her in his lap. The girl moaned into his mouth as his hands moved further down.

"Erik" She whispered, "this robe is the only thing I'm wearing."

He groaned in agony. There was nothing to do but hope she didn't notice the evident desire he had for her, as she remained on top of his lap. Erik pulled away, causing Christine to pout childishly while keeping her arms limply locked around his neck. The time passed quickly and the room had already darkened from when they first came inside.

"Oh Christine, I must ask you to sit to my side instead of atop me." The masked man pleaded, his head tilted back and lungs heaving slightly.

"Did I do something wrong?" She asked innocently, as she'd never really done anything like this before.

"No, it is difficult to realize that this is indeed reality."

"What can I do to prove it to you?" She asked, leaning in and tracing the curves of his face.

He groaned again, "No, don't ask me that. I may not be able to restrain myself."

"Then what do you suggest we do? Maybe we can go sit on the balcony, look how beautiful the evening sky is!" Christine smiled.

It truly was a lovely sight- several soft colors blending and streaking across the vast area. Pinks, oranges, yellows, blues, and purples were present above the old buildings, dimming the lighting of the world as the Sun descended. But Erik kept his gaze focused on the thoughtful expression on the curly-haired actress' face. She held onto him so nicely in such a way that he'd never experienced before and acted so wonderfully towards him- and not of fear!

"Oh Erik, I'm so glad you came over. It wasn't nearly as enjoyable being here by myself for several hours."

"What an impossibility. But I would tend to your every whim if I was able- only time restrains me."

"Then why are you denying yourself to be happy? That is what you feel, right?"

"Very much so, dear girl. I don't simply deny myself joy, it is a product of previous experiences that only led to torment. Anyone who has ever earned my trust was either only doing it for selfish reasons or severed my trust by doing something dreadful. That is, besides you and the insufferable Daroga."

"You poor thing! What kind of horrible people would dare to be so awful?"

"More than you would think. But let's not speak of them, they will only cause pain."

"I agree." Christine grinned slyly, pulling herself closer to him and enrapturing the masked man in another kiss.

Erik was know more assured of himself and became much more passionate towards her, placing his hands at the base of her waist while starting to descend down her neck.

With a slight nervousness, she leaned down to whisper: "I _did_ lock the doors."

In an impossibly more enchanting tone, he responded: "Minx."


	17. Chapter 17: The Daroga

Erik woke to an unfamiliar feeling- a warm body beside his own, one belonging to a lovely and talented actress. Her pale eyelids were shut in sleep, black lashes curling at the ends and resting just upon her baby-like cheeks. Christine's face was always quite pale, only to be occasionally colored by a blush. The brown mass of curls fanned out around her head like a dark halo, a beautiful contrast to her complexion in the eyes of an artist. He studied her, afraid to wake the girl with a touch.

But she awoke soon on her own, fluttering her lashes to reveal a sliver of her drowsy blue eyes. A smile stretched across her pink lips at seeing Erik beside her and thoughtfully gazing down at her.

"Good morning. I must ask you if anything happened- I can't seem to remember a thing!" The actress spoke in her deeper morning voice.

"It _is_ quite a wonderful morning. Though I hardly think the Daroga felt restful with my disappearance..." Erik chuckled.

"Please tell me what happened."

"Of course. You, the little seductress, were showing off how much of a temptation you are and then fell asleep just as I put you down on the bed. Naturally, I tried to get back to my own residence. It was difficult with your ridiculously strong grip and the magnetism you possess in your peaceful state of sleep, so I attempted to sleep on the opposite side of the bed for sake of propriety."

"That plan clearly failed, we're right beside one another."

"So it appears."

"Thank you for not leaving."

"It was a delight, milady." Erik bowed his head for emphasis.

They lied beside one another for a little while longer, appreciating the serenity and comfort of their position. Christine's head was placed on the masked man's chest, curling her fingers into his and studying the details of the stylish clothes he was dressed in. Erik's skeletal form leaned in slightly towards the girl and he felt a deep ache in his chest, something he suspected to be longing.

Sunlight danced on the wall, reflecting off the cut-crystals of the small chandelier above the bed. The sound of chirping birds penetrated through even the glass of the window, creating the only noise of the environment. Clean, white blankets on the bed kept the drowsy pair enveloped in warmth. It would've been a perfect morning if neither of them had to prepare for working; Erik was scheduled to have a meeting regarding some other film his studio was producing. Christine knew she would be lonely for the remainder of the day without him.

Erik regrettably got up, wishing the actress a good day as he left the room and went back to his own for a fresh change of clothes. Feeling too sluggish to lock the door behind him, she lingered in bed for a few more minutes. Eventually, the girl rose from the comfortable bed and stretched out her slight frame before shuffling towards the door Erik just exited from.

Breakfast was soon brought up for Christine, all incredible delicacies but none of which the girl paid attention to: her mind was somewhere else. What a scandal it would be! Young starlet in her first major film is having some outside-of-work dealings with the head of the studio for the very same film. People, of course, would assume the worst and suspect that she did more than sleep beside him to get her role. This was obviously a lie, given that she'd never met Erik before filming started, but the media would create its own story as to their meeting.

Keeping her mind off of potential gossip, Christine finished her breakfast and got dressed. She was in a stylish navy dress that came down to her knees in a pencil skirt, the top section featuring some white ruffles up from her neck down to the chest. The matching ensemble looked very professional, even though the girl wasn't planning on leaving the building. Her morning would consist of a visit to the friendly Daroga, who had so kindly guided her around the Garnier just the other day.

Knocking on the door, she was soon invited in by the Persian. Christine immediately informed him that tea would be brought up recently, as per her order.

"Wonderful to see you again, though I did worry about you last night since Erik didn't return until this morning." He greeted, leading his guest to the plush sofa.

"Why would you worry for me?"

"Erik is a precise individual- he wouldn't be late on purpose. I assumed that you must have gone missing or were in trouble and my friend went to help."

"Well that's a very revealing thought of Erik: you think so highly of him and believe him to be protective."

"That is very true."

"Did you see him much this morning? I know he left for work today."

"Yes, and in a rush to leave. He ignored practically everything I said and went out the door."

"What a wonderful friend you are. You deserve a vacation for watching over him so much."

"Ah, Erik has mentioned that before but only to get me off his back. It is exhausting to keep track of him. He won't even eat for days in an inspired state unless reminded."

Christine chuckled, sipping some tea from the tray that had just been brought up by a staff member. The masked man was quite a unique individual, even beyond the genius of his art.

"Well, is there anything I can help you with? It seems unlikely that you came over here just to discuss Erik's odd habits." The Daroga questioned.

She sighed, "You know him best...what does he think of me? Does Erik believe in all of those previous stories about me? Most people, especially men, think of me in that light and it's difficult to prove otherwise to them...you do understand what I mean?"

"Yes, it is unfortunate that you must face such people. But I can assure you that he doesn't think anything ill of you. Erik will likely kill me for saying this...he actually sees you in an almost heavenly, goddess-like light."

Christine blushed, "That's too flattering, now you're trying to please me."

"Not at all, just watch his behavior around you in comparison to that of when he's with other people. There's quite a large difference."

The girl cleared her throat in discomfort to make up for her lack of a verbal response.

He seemed to notice the change in her demeanor, changing the subject quickly: "How is the progress of the film? I don't think I've ever asked you about your work, Christine."

"It's all going well. The sets, costumes, and all other designs are amazingly detailed which is probably a demand of Erik's. He is the most difficult of the directors to please."

"Yes, ever the picky one. He complains every so often about certain people and their incompetence, but never you. The worst thing he ever said about you, Christine, was when he offered to help you sing his music."

"Oh, what a relief." She paused, "What do you do, Mister Khan, outside of babysitting Erik?"

"I couldn't possibly have proper employment, not with Erik to watch over. Previously, I was a doctor and the chief of police force back in Persia."

"Oh yes, I remember the police chief part. They must have both been difficult occupations."

Their conversation carried on through the afternoon. Christine left later, not wanting to impose on the Daroga and asking if he could tell Erik to come talk to her upon his return from work. Though it may have seemed a bit wanton, she knew Erik's friend wouldn't misunderstand her intent.

She spent the early evening relaxing- soaking in a warm rose-scented bath, wearing looser clothing, reading books, drinking mint tea, and snacking on fruits. With all of the spare time, Christine even pinned up all of the messy curls out of her face. It felt like eternity until there was a knock on the door.


	18. Chapter 18: Visit

Quickly putting on a pink silk robe and padded slippers, Christine scuffled towards the door. Her dark hair was still mostly pinned up with a few curly tendrils hanging down loosely beside her clear face. The bewildered look in her eyes revealed her surprise at receiving a guest, even though she did request him to come over. The few hours of serenity had successfully distracted the actress.

"Hello, Erik. Excuse my disheveled appearance, I lost track of time and didn't remember to change into a more sophisticated ensemble. No matter now, I suppose." Christine smiled, opening the door.

"It's alright, I wasn't plotting on whisking you away anywhere this evening. And you still look ravishing as ever." Erik stated matter-of-factly, entering the flat.

She blushed, "Thank you. Can I offer you any refreshments or drinks?"

"Don't fret about it, I am perfectly fine. What did you wish me to come over for? The Daroga informed me of your visit earlier."

"Just a conversation, I suppose."

"What did you discuss with the Persian? He wouldn't disclose any details to me, but he certainly did not refrain from smiling slyly like a ninny."

"Oh...well...we spoke of the filming going on, a bit about you, and his previous work."

"Why would you discuss something as dreadful as myself? The Daroga must be quite a bore for the conversation to lead to me."

"Not at all, Erik. Both of you are wonderfully interesting individuals, especially you."

"I'm flattered."

"How was filming today?"

"Better not to ask." He groaned.

"Aww, poor Erik having to deal with incompetence."

"Quite so, it seems you are the only cast member with any artistic vision."

"Now I'm flattered, you missed me!"

She gave him a brief hug, allowing him to sense the strong yet delicate scent of rosebuds on her skin. It took everything within him not to whimper at how utterly delectable this girl was. The cool silk loosely residing upon the curves of her body didn't help his feverish mind either. Christine was a doll, an angel, his muse, the standard of perfection, a goddess in human form. What torment it was to be in her company and still not be able to claim her as his own, knowing that there was no possibility of it becoming true.

Sensing Erik's tension, Christine pulled backwards slightly but still remained relatively close to him. Their eyes stared at one another as their breaths grew shorter at the proximity in between them. Erik's hand reached up, caressing her soft cheek in the gentlest manner. The actress kept her hands upon his broad shoulders to steady herself.

He muttered quietly, tilting his mouth closer to her ear: " _We are not ourselves when nature, being oppressed, commands the mind to suffer with the body._ "

"What is that from? Shakespeare?" Christine asked, barely speaking above a whisper.

"Yes, _King Lear_. Although, my intention isn't the same as his was."

"It's beautiful."

He smirked beside her neck, as if to say _as are you_ , and very lightly placed his lips upon her skin. Erik pulled away, afraid that it might've been to brash of an action and seeking assurance in Christine's eyes. It was quite clear from her expression that the girl would not be rejecting him then, her chin tilted upwards to grant him further access and her starry eyes seemed enchanted.

A flame burned in his chest, desire forming in the pit of his abdomen. That damned pink robe was exquisite on her ivory skin and it left just enough for the imagination, still outlining her perfect form. Erik only hoped she couldn't see his weakness at seeing her. Christine still sat beside him, an unreadable look in her crystalline gaze.

But the masked man couldn't continue, he felt guilty enough just with the previous motion and thought of himself as unworthy of such a goddess' attentions. When Christine realized he pulled away from her, she frowned with a hurt look on her face and looked down at the floor. _Perhaps I'd done something wrong, maybe I seem too bold in letting him do this. I am in only a robe, of course_. She reasoned, trying to understand him.

Fighting the shyness and restraint of her ordinary demeanor, she spoke up: "What is it now? Do I seem like an easy girl to you? Is that the problem?"

Erik looked aghast, his golden-brown eyes widening at such an assumption: "Not at all. In fact, I deem myself to be quite a beast for being so direct. Why would you want me to defile you in even the slightest of ways? After all, you have that de Changy boy wrapped around your finger and he seems to be more respectful."

"Stop it, you know I admire you as a person and that Raoul is like a cousin to me! I'd rather kiss a stranger over someone I think of as a family member."

"Either way, no need for some ghastly skeleton of a man vying for your attention."

"Don't be silly, Erik. And could we please talk about something else, besides your needless insecurities?"

"Unfortunately, it is impossible to completely rid of the thoughts implemented into my mind by society. Doing anything to you makes me feel absolutely devilish in the worst way."

"Then allow me to be the devilish one..." Christine smiled coquettishly.

She took the sides of his face in her hands and kissed him fervently. Her body tingled with electric sparks of adrenaline, but now there was more of a fire burning within her for initiating it. The mask tilted and loosened from its position on Erik's face as the actress' hands moved alongside its edges. It slipped from his face, landing atop the carpet, and caused moderate alarm from Erik. He reached to cover the disfiguration, Christine pulling his shielding hand away in reassurance.

With less of the physical restraint, there came less emotional restraint from Erik. He reciprocated the passion and grasped Christine unbelievably in his own arms. The apparent disregard for his disfigurement gave him the confidence and aloof air he held on all other occasions. Erik's talented hands caused a burning sensation at Christine's waist and led to a tingling in her abdomen. The unmasked man was unrestrained and boldly moaning into her neck as he worked on creating a noticeable mark upon it.

Now the smell of roses, feeling of silk, and baby pink color she adorned would be captured in Erik's mind as Christine's attributes, all of which were irresistible. The girl's body felt more limp and she laid down over the cushions of the couch, beckoning Erik to position himself over her. Pins from her hair came loose from their positions, releasing her wild chestnut curls beneath her head, the disheveled look making him feel even more emboldened.

His hands traveled further over her body. Christine reacted to every touch and rested her own hands over his arms, showing him the trust he so desired. The look of excitement and amazement in that lovely pair of blue eyes drove Erik mad; he had barely even done anything to the girl. But that reminded him that he couldn't bear to do anything further anyways. She didn't deserve his monstrous actions and he didn't want her to go out of the way to prove pity to him.

Once again he stopped himself, surprising the actress and putting a sorrowful look in her expression.

"Oh Erik, I didn't ask you to stop!" She exclaimed.

"And I didn't ask for pity."

"You aren't being pitied, I promise you on my own life. What do I need to do to prove it?"

"Nothing" He said, pulling away but being stopped by the girl's grip.

"Don't you dare leave or I will never see me again, as it seems obvious that you wouldn't care to see me anyways."

"That is untrue, Christ-"

"Prove it."

In frustration, Erik obeyed her order and pressed an impassioned kiss on her soft lips that dizzied the girl. She smiled at her victory, holding his face over hers. There was another pressure from Erik that Christine felt on her abdomen, feeling his own desire physically pressed against her. The sensation unrestrained her further and she instinctually bucked her own hips higher to meet Erik's.


	19. Chapter 19: Apology

The Daroga sat in a leather armchair with a newspaper in-hand, not having read it earlier in the day, and occasionally having a sip of cinnamon-spiced tea. It was a joy to see Erik actually excited after hearing about Christine's visit to their residence. The man was always so reserved and in-control that it was a relief to see him break the stoic façade with a smile; usually, it was rage that surfaced. Nonetheless, the rare night of peace and quiet was greatly appreciated by the former Persian police chief.

As nighttime progressed, he grew more distracted from his book and thought instead of what Erik was so occupied with. Surely if something went wrong, the masked man would've returned by now...or perhaps might have spent the night finding a method to ease his mind. Even after all these years, it was difficult to predict his actions.

On the other hand, if things were going well, the pair was likely having a late-night conversation of music or art or whatever was on their minds. Beyond that extent, the Persian didn't dare to even think about. His attention returned to the newspaper and his deep brown eyes skimmed over a story of a traveling gallery arriving temporarily to one of the museums.

His eyelids began to grow heavy and so he retired to bed, still surprised at Erik's disappearance. The masked man seemed to be doing so well with his work while also experiencing less foul moods, likely as an effect of Christine's entrance into his life. A gentle smile of happiness for his friend appeared on the Daroga's slightly wrinkled face as he fell asleep.

A slam of a nearby door awoke the well-rested Perisan. He sighed, wishing the morning could've been as relaxing as the previous night had been for him. It was clear that this noisy intruder was Erik, his large yet cat-like gait pacing across the living room floor. Nadir donned a simple robe and stepped into his slippers, leaving his warm bed to play psychiatrist to his distressed friend.

"Good morning, Erik." He greeted.

"Daroga...hello." The masked man replied, his head obviously distracted as he continued to pace.

"Would you like to tell me what's on your mind? You seem troubled."

"Ha! Troubled! I don't think any word in any language could possibly explain these awful things called _feelings_. Except, perhaps some German Frankenstein-word." Erik explained, seating himself on the sofa with his chest heaving slightly.

"Then, by all means, try to. I cannot help you if you don't."

"Do you know where I went last night?"

"To Christine. But you never revealed whether you stayed or not."

"How could I resist staying with such a willing angel? Of course I remained with her, and it still seems like a dream."

"If it isn't an intrusion, what were you doing that caused such distress?"

Erik sighed with a tint of red in his cheeks, running a hand through part of his thick, dark hair and refusing to meet his friend's eyes.

"Ah, I see." The Daroga cleared his throat, "Why do you seem upset then?"

"Because it's going to end. One must always wake from a dream, no matter how wonderful it is. _Change is inevitable_ , Disraeli."

" _Every man has to seek his own way to make himself more noble and to realize his own true worth,_ Schweitzer."

" _Nothing is certain but death and taxes_ , Ben Franklin. Don't try to be clever with me."

"Ever the pessimist."

"How can I not be?"

"See that the girl has no ill intentions towards you."

"Ah but Fate brings everything crumbling at my feet."

"Not true. You're still in business, and quite successful. I believe self-fulfilled prophecy is to blame for anything recent failings."

Erik was silenced. The Daroga was always an incredibly wise man- never as skilled as the masked man had become- but still quite bright about the mysterious of life. The foolish bit of hope left in his heart soared, his mind trying to shut it down immediately to no avail. It was too difficult a thing to kill, just as when he receives the first strike of inspiration to compose no matter how occupied he may have been.

But if his old friend was correct, if Christine wouldn't end up loathing him, Erik would need to do something...and fast. Leaving her in the morning wasn't a very wise step even if she did hate him after the previous night. Yet again, the Daroga's advice was needed to solve the matter.

The Persian man, still in his slippers, stirred a spoon of honey into his tea and looked at ease with himself. Erik's mind was always too busy thinking about something to ever seem so tranquil, especially in the morning. Clearing his throat, he caught Nadir's attention.

"I assume you want me to help."

"Quite so, Daroga."

"You either need to go see the poor girl immediately and explain yourself. The other variation is to still visit her soon but with something to persuade her better to accept your apology."

"The latter seems more appealing." Erik stood up, making sure his mask was in place, then walked towards the door: "Your help is indispensable and I am leaving to seek all of the fineries available currently on the market."

"I wish you luck, Allah knows your temperament needs helping."

Erik huffed at the remark, shutting the door behind him and nearly flying down the staircase to be the earliest buyer at the shops. That way none of the best products would risk being sold off before Erik arrived. If Christine's acceptance of his apology required him to bring her the moon, it would be done.

Without any particular requests, however, the masked man only purchased the most suitable jewelry, freshest flowers, most delectable pastries, richest chocolates, newest French fragrances, and even the most stylish pair of pink lacquered heels. His extravagant tastes, as well as the ability to pay for them, pleased the intrigued clerks watching him. Wearing a mask in a shop wasn't exactly inconspicuous to whoever stood behind the counter. But once they saw him pull out payment, they treated him as a king.

He checked the watch on his wrist, seeing he'd only been gone shopping for eighteen minutes. That allowed his schedule two minutes to return to Christine. With a quick pace, Erik made it back to her doorstep just on time and knocked on the door, chest heaving to collect his breath. His ears could not have possibly been deceiving him when he heard the sound of rushed, gentle footsteps eagerly approaching the door.

But the appearance of the girl he saw in the doorway did not appear eager at all. Her blue irises were tainted with red retinas, the trailing wet marks of tears were visible along her cheeks, and dark circles formed under her eyes. The lovely curls now looked limply strewn around her shoulders.

Christine sighed, half-wanting to shut the door and leave him there...the other half was delighted that he returned. She scanned the strange multitude of various colored bags and boxes in the arms of the man for a moment. Before her mind took any longer to think about what to do, Christine invited him inside silently. Erik seemed relieved.

"I must apologi-" Erik began, sitting at the sofa so he could put all of the parcels down.

"No, Erik. I will forgive you, but I need to question why you left. And be honest." The girl insisted.

"Well, it wasn't only to get all of this. I initially left because...it would've been torture to wake up and see you looking regretful. Worse than any reaction I've ever received at my face."

The girl stayed silent, a sorrowful expression hinting in her features.

Erik continued, "You can ask the Daroga. He must've thought I was mad, pacing around and sounding erratic as I was. The advice he gave me brought me back here."

"You wouldn't have come by yourself?"

"Not this quickly." He confessed, "You asked for my honesty."

"Yes, I'm glad you listened to him."

"As am I. He knocks some sense into me, especially in such a mood, which I suppose is why I have him come with me everywhere anyways."

"Why do you think I would be so cruel to you? Can't you believe that I'm not like those other people?"

"It is difficult to do that. Sometimes I am convinced of it, but then...there's the doubt that's always been sewn-in to my thoughts and it ruins any hopes."

"Doubts?"

"That I truly don't deserve this and something will be done to stop it, leaving me worse than before. Or that this is only happening out of pity."

"I do not pity you, Erik."

"I only wish for you to now accept my apology and understand how foolish I am. But there is also some persuasion here for you, in case my words aren't enough."

She chuckled, "They weren't necessary, your apology is accepted and I must point out that we're all foolish at times."

"You are an angel, my dear." Erik smiled, taking her hand in both of his gratefully.

Christine blushed at the compliment and looked at the mountain of gifts he'd purchased. Noticing her gaze, Erik moved to present everything to her as though she was a queen being presented offerings. First was the bouquet, sitting atop the stack; they were a vibrant variety of different flowers arranged perfectly and tied together with a satin ribbon.

The pink box of pastries was next and Christine's eyes lit up at seeing all of the delectable desserts, as they did with the chocolates he showed her afterwards. She couldn't help but sample one of the raspberry cream-filled bonbons and smiling in delight of how wonderful they were.

There were also three varying, elegant boxes of glass bottles containing perfumes. One colored with a tint of pink smelled of roses and vanilla- Erik's favorite by far. The pale yellow-colored fragrance was in a rounder bottle, smelling warm and comforting like cinnamon. Last was something that looked similar to a potion-bottle, containing a minty green substance that was reminiscent of a flower field in the spring. Christine was amazed at his choices, and at the extravagance of them.

Before the girl could utter a single word, Erik continued. He presented the rosy pink lacquered heels, all wrapped in golden tissue paper and placed in their pristine white shoebox. Next came the multiple little packages of jewelry.

Glittering emeralds, rubies, sapphires, diamonds, and even lesser-known types of stones were embedded in silver or gold. They were set in the forms of stud earrings, loose earrings, necklaces of various lengths, bracelets, simple rings, brooches, and hair pieces. Christine's gaping mouth and wide eyes were the only response Erik needed to feel that his purchases were worth every cent.


	20. Chapter 20: Further Apology

"Erik this is too much!" Christine chided.

"Not at all, it is only minimal compensation for my idiocy." Erik insisted.

"You returning was enough for me to know you felt bad, but it would've taken me longer to be on friendlier terms again. The apology was also lovely so I could tell it was sincere."

"But even so, you wouldn't exactly be content with me. The gifts were meant to give physical proof and potentially make it simpler to forgive me quickly; I couldn't bear to have you angered at me for so long."

"I don't think I could be angry at you for so long." The girl confessed.

"And now?"

"Maybe some time for me to think would be best. It won't be too long, I promise."

Erik nodded his head, clearly trying to hide disappointment. Christine took notice and felt the drop in his concealed happiness, immediately thinking that she needed to resolve it. She thought about something they could occupy their time with together but didn't suggest too intimate a relationship.

A gentle hand was placed on his shoulder reassuringly, "What if we went out for tea today and just had a conversation? I think it would be beneficial to learn more about each other, don't you?"

"I'll accept your offer, Miss Daae."

"Glad to hear it, _Mister_..." She paused, "See I don't even know your last name!"

"Then let's be on our way and I'll tell you about it."

He offered her the crook of his arm, guiding her towards the elevator and out of the building. Before leaving, however, Erik took a camera with them in case something of interest happened. The day was a bit grey with some clouds threatening to drizzle rain over Paris' streets and a light breeze passed through the yellowing leaves of trees. People didn't seem at all worried of the possible rain, several still meandering amongst shops or parks.

Christine admired her view: the lovely autumnal surroundings and a kind gentleman at her arm. The usual charm of Parisian architecture was especially wonderful with the falling leaves and earthy tones of nature. Some flowers still bloomed in the below-window hanging pots, bringing brighter colors into the picture as well.

Only the unmasked side of her companion's face was in her view and she watched the hardened expression that usually covered it. Occasionally Christine noticed a hint of a smile on his lips when he saw something of nature particularly beautiful or if there was someone walking a friendly dog.

The pair turned down a street and arrived at one of the hundreds of lovely cafes in the city. As the weather was decent, Erik urged Christine to stay out in the fresh air while he brought out whatever delicacies he ordered for her. Luckily, the line inside wasn't too long so the masked man returned rather quickly with a small box of more pastries and a cup of rose petal tea.

Filled with regret and afraid to overstep any boundaries or offend her again, Erik waited for Christine to speak. Yet the actress wasn't in a mood to speak with him at that moment either; she was thinking of what the wisest choice for her situation would be. It would be impossible to avoid him entirely, and not just for work reasons. But she couldn't help, rightfully, feeling hurt by his disappearance that morning.

The masked man sensed her thoughtful state and captiously began: "I never had a surname."

Christine's icy blue eyes looked into his.

"Really? How is that possible nowadays?"

Bitterly, Erik responded, "Well if the circumstance happens to be that you're a bastard whose mother sold you off and feared your appearance, it isn't entirely impossible."

"I pity that woman."

The masked man was caught by surprise, "Why would you pity _her_? Are you finally seeing clearly, dear girl?"

"No, and you know what I meant. It is a shame she never got to know her own son properly due to her prejudice."

"I wouldn't blame her."

"Please don't speak so negatively of yourself, that only makes you feel worse."

He sighed, knowing that it was now nature for him to speak in such a way towards himself yet not wanting to disappoint the girl again.

"Well, do you have a last name now?" Christine asked.

"Not exactly."

"I'm sure people don't walk up to you at your company and just call you _Erik_."

"No."

"Maybe you could choose one that you like and make it official."

The masked man chuckled, directing his gaze off to some point in the distance. Christine surely had a very optimistic outlook on anything: a complex issue turned into a minor problem that required, at most, three steps to complete. What bliss it must be to think of everything so simply.

But what if he did decide to choose a surname? His mother's wasn't a mystery; Erik knew exactly what his family name should've been, but the wicked woman acted as though he'd died and refused to relate him to herself in any official documents. It seemed wrong to take a name that connected his mother to him after such wretched treatment. Further, it would give her a possibility, if she was still alive, to reach out to her now-successful son like a leech. _That_ was something Erik would never allow.

Christine was delicately eating some form of delicate, cream-filled choux pastry and watching the dark birds flying against the light grey sky. She seemed to understand that her companion was deep in thought and it would be best not to pry. Only when his attention returned to her did she dare to gaze back at him.

"It seems that I must think about something as well. Since you get to decide what you wish to do with me, I will try to concern myself with the subject of a surname." Erik announced.

"Did you come up with your first name too?" Christine asked, a smile on her face to lighten the tone.

"It was given to me in my youth when I'd been studying to be an architect in Italy by the one of the two people who'd shown me kindness until then. My mother never bothered to name the hideous creature she bore."

"Erik, stop it!" She exclaimed, "But that explains why it fits you so well. I always thought my name was too uncommon and old-fashioned."

"Absolutely not, Christine is a lovely name that suits you."

"Thank you. How do you think you'll go about finding a last name for yourself? Maybe reading books to steal names of your favorite characters? If so, I think it would be amusing to be able to call you Mr. Darcy."

"Ah, _Pride and Prejudice_? I suppose it's fitting- the man's got one actual friend, a bit of a snobbish attitude, generally indifferent towards others, and finds only one lady to ever appeal to him."

Christine blushed slightly at the least part as they made their way back to the building they roomed in, this time each going to their own flats. The Daroga was happy to hear of Erik's almost cheerful description about his account with the girl. A slight smile was actually visible, even beneath part of the mask. It was an understatement to say that the older Persian man was delighted for his friend.

Just down the hallway, Christine lounged on a couch with some tea and the chocolates Erik gifted her. A storming dilemma challenged her mind to decide over Erik. As she'd thought before, it would be impossible to leave him in any less of a relationship than a close friend. It was too much to declare that she loved him in any sense, but there was no way to deny her care for him.

Then suddenly it became clearer to the girl and there was no debate left. Hadn't her intriguing director been practically on his knees to apologize? Granted, it was hurtful to wake up all alone...but Erik was obviously aware of her feelings and only made the mistake due to his insecurity. But Christine hoped to change his self-doubt if given the chance.


	21. Chapter 21: Tease

It seemed that both the masked man and the actress were well aware of their regards towards one another. Even so, Christine mentioned that she wanted some distance for a while before she could fully trust him once again and Erik nobly agreed to her conditions. But the previous few days of filming had been tormenting for the director and he would return to the Daroga in absolute frustration. It was all due to Christine's obvious teasing behavior towards him.

Her costumes all seemed so form-fitting, leaving Erik to be reminded of what she looked like beneath the layers of fabric. The over-exaggerated affections she pretended to give Raoul during their more intimate scenes, her maddening innocent doe-eyed look whenever he gave instructions or notes, cheeky smiles, playful banter with him...all of it was slowly killing the poor man. He would never mention his thoughts to her, but it was slightly more clear as to how she acquired such a coquettish appearance in the public: Christine was an amazing actress when she desired to be.

It was a lunch break then and Christine was complimenting her makeup artist, who soon rushed away to tend to some task. Subtly holding one of the éclairs to her mouth, her blue eyes shined with mischief as she stared at Erik. His gaze had been fixed on her every possible moment she was in the room and he watched her tantalizingly slowly put the pastry in her mouth. Christine took a bite, leaving some of the whipped cream filling on her finger so, of course, she licked it off and sucked her finger briefly enough to send Erik over the edge of frustration.

Quietly, he groaned and tried to position himself more comfortably despite the clear _dis_ comfort of his trousers. The little minx giggled, trying to disguise it as a reaction to a cast member's joke rather than at seeing Erik. Out of his shortening patience, the masked man called everyone back onto the set and ordered them to prepare for the wolf attack scene. He yelled for the scene to begin gruffly and focused his eyes on the setting.

"Oh no..." The princess-to-be muttered upon seeing the glowing eyes of wolves approach her in the snow-covered forest.

As the animals moved closer, she hastily grabbed a sturdy fallen tree branch and held it like a club. Belle was surrounded by their pack. Everything appeared hopeless for the fair maiden whom the wolves greatly outnumbered...that was until the Beast suddenly entered the scene and frightened the animals away after pushing Belle to the side. They put up a fight against him, biting at his shoulders and ankles. The girl tried not to interfere until the wolves had all run off and then helped the injured Beast return to the castle.

"Get your hands off me, I am alright. Besides, you were attempting to get away from me and so you should be on your way while the wolves are gone." The Beast coldly ordered.

"You aren't alright so it is only right that I help you back." Belle insisted, wrapping his massive arm over her petite shoulders as they walked back to his castle in the snow.

* * *

It was an especially long day of filming after all of Christine's little stunts. Additionally, seeing her affections pointed towards Raoul so realistically before the cameras caused for further agony. She was naturally so kind that it was simple for her to replicate the exact kindness in her eyes that appeared in real life. It made her so angelic.

Coming back to his living room, he collapsed onto the sofa and groaned loudly. The Daroga's mocking snickers echoed from the hallway as the Persian man watched his friend's misery. Erik glared at him from beneath the white leather mask.

"Would you kindly stop your incessant chortling."

"What is it now? Your favorite actress looked at you and smiled?" He teased.

"Much worse! My darling Christine seems to have turned into a vixen, tormenting every remainder of my sanity. Oh, if you'd only been there Daroga!"

"You would have gouged my eyes out for seeing."

"I suppose so. What do you think she's trying to do? Kill me?"

"No, my friend, quite the opposite. As always, your folly is not discussing your issues and refusing to believe that people don't always consider you so fearsome."

"You mean to say...?"

"Go speak to Christine and find out. After all, I might be mistaken so you should go talk with her."

"But I can't! She hasn't permitted me to return in proximity to her and I do not want to go against her wishes."

The Daroga held his forehead in his hands and muttered, "For a brilliant man, you are incredibly thick at times."

"Fine! I'll abide to your advice but it will be your fault if this goes wrong." Erik said, dramatically spinning back to the door as the slightly-too-long suit coat swirled around behind him like a cape.

In a fervent state of frustration, the masked man trying very hard to quiet his pounding footsteps down the hallway. He halted, collected himself, and knocked at the door of Christine's flat. The actress soon opened the door, dressed in the familiar pink silk robe but this time with her lovely curls loose around her face. A light successful smile graced her lips as she invited Erik inside. She plopped herself down lushly on the sofa, fetchingly draped over it like an artist's muse and watched him stare back at her.

Erik removed his coat, placing it on the opposite sofa and sat down silently across from the smiling girl. Too many thoughts raced in both of their minds, making the silence between them barely even noticeable. Yet with so much curiosity and anxiety in their heads, they maintained their calm facades. Christine was the first to make any motions.

"I suppose it would be rude if I didn't ask how your day passed." She stated.

Erik was driven to madness at her audacity. Christine's knowing grin made it even worse.

" _How was my day?_ That is a silly question, as you have been responsible for the alteration of my moods."

"Really?" Christine questioned mockingly, cocking her head to the side.

"Stop tormenting me, dear girl, it would not end well."

"I don't think I believe you, Erik. You can only be touchy or in a bad mood sometimes, not really any worse." She shrugged.

"Do not tempt me. I will confess to have committed many crimes." Erik warned, now feeling desperate and fearful.

"Silly man, the Daroga's hints and whatever I could figure of them made me see that myself. You'd never do anything so extreme to someone who didn't deserve it."

"Are you alright, Christine? Any sane person would have run out of the door by now..."

"Of course I am! Just understand that only simple-minded people are repulsed by you, Erik, everyone recognizes your genius capabilities."

The masked man sat silently, joy bursting in his veins at this unique girl that couldn't seem to hate him. Her youthful gaze remained fixed on him expectantly, the lounged position of her body being the only tranquil part of her appearance. Erik wished to see her this way forever: a hopeful glint in her jewel-like eyes, loose natural curls cloaking her narrow frame, pink lips parted gently, that perfectly rosy silk robe, a dreamy setting, and the desire he felt for her. She turned her face and adjusted the scene, making Erik's romanticized vision fade away.

Now Christine's head was placed down onto a fluffed pillow, her stare focused on the ceiling in waiting for her companion's response. The masked man sensed her anticipation and attempted to quickly move the conversation along.

"Why did you tantalize me all day?" He asked.

She turned her head, "It was honestly quite fun, seeing you so uncomfortable and threatening even though I knew you wouldn't do anything. Now I'm just interested to see what you came to me for."

"To ask my previous question. But you're quite the _chipie_ apparently and I'm surprised, maybe incorrectly since you're an actress."

A shocked expression appeared on her face, although she clearly wasn't offended by his comment. He stepped closer to her, kneeling at the side of the couch she lied over, and Christine's wide eyes illustrated the excited anxiety she felt within. Her gaze lingered down at Erik's mouth.

"Did you think that maybe I wasn't entirely acting...?" She mumbled.

Erik's quiet breaths became more ragged as he responded in a whisper: "Sorry my dear..."

With these final words, Erik was unable to resist the proximity of the wonderful angel beside him and he closed the gap between them. This stopped her from responding verbally to him. But she immediately shifted her body to face him better, placing delicate hands to the sides of his head and using his distracted state to try removing the mask. He was always hiding behind it, never comfortable enough to reveal his face, and Christine couldn't imagine the cold porcelain covering to be very pleasant.

He didn't seem to notice until the mask was being pulled away- his hand flying up defensively as a shield. Christine held his wrist as reassurance that everything was fine and she wouldn't react. His iron grip loosened and slipped down to the girl's pale throat in an almost threatening way, setting off a fire in her chest.

With a cat-like grace, Erik moved so his body hovered over hers on the couch. Christine still removed the mask, opening her eyes to see the man above her. It was still the same malformed face that was undeniably painful to look at, but Christine felt this way thinking of how much evil Erik had known because of it. She admired the darker bronze flecks in his captivating eyes and the definition of his skeletal face.

There was an unreadable expression in his air. Erik was first ashamed or fearful, but then his countenance changed to a more haughty, cavalier look. Unknown to Christine, this came as a defense Erik created over intimidating people with his face...only now it appeared partially from his smugness at seeing the eager wonder in her eyes.

"I hope I haven't offended you, but it seems clear from the fascination in your face that you aren't." Erik smirked.

"Oh definitely not, Erik. Just please don't stop." She begged.

"As long as I have your consent, there won't be any way to stop."

"Good." Christine smiled just before lifting her head and connecting their lips together again.

While Erik's one hand remained loosely fixed on her neck, the other was placed gently to the side of her chest and slowly moving to grasp it. Christine was happy at him finally being more comforted near her, but she wanted him to move faster and pulled him down onto her frame to send the message. Erik understood and responded with an animalistic groan while pulling apart the tie of Christine's robe.

Desire pulsed through his veins as he leaned down to place flowery kisses over the newly-exposed skin. Erik's natural possessive nature made him smugly bite down on her neck, tainting Christine's pale tone with purplish-grey bruises. Meanwhile, the girl underneath was no longer in control of her reactions and responded with primal instinct: quiet whimpers, shutting her eyelids lightly, arching her neck upwards, keeping her hands on Erik's shoulders to hold him in place.

But the man pulled away unexpectedly, and not entirely willingly. His golden-brown eyes teasingly saw the surprised disappointment in Christine's face. Tracing a thumb over the actress' cheek, Erik sat up and gazed at her with a smirk.

"Doesn't feel very nice, does it? Being teased?"

The brunette sighed in anguish, "Erik please."

"No, I wanted to return the misery and also have an idea."

"And what would that be?" She taunted, still uncovered from the waist up but surrounded by the pink silk.

"Let me grab my large canvas and some oils, if you don't mind waiting."


	22. Chapter 22: Painting

Erik placed a massive canvas he just so happened to possess in the middle of Christine's living space and prepared a paint palette. The actress was intrigued, obediently still laying on the couch amidst the silk of her robe and watching Erik flit about the huge canvas like a hummingbird would with a nectar-filled flower.

"What are you doing?" She giggled, seeing him look so concerned.

"Move your hair a little bit more over your shoulder...and maybe just a small smile, and there! Perfect!" Erik instructed, madly dabbing his brush into the oils and expertly blending the paints to replicate the image before him.

"Can I talk?"

"Preferably not, but please don't hesitate to tell me if you want to stop."

Christine only nodded slightly, returning to the pose he had positioned her in. It was definitely not the most comfortable circumstance to be in but it should've been expected with Erik's eccentricity and artistic streak. This was also probably one of the most flattering thing anyone had done or said to Christine, having been asked to be a muse in real life not just a made-up scene.

However sweet the gesture was, it didn't make up for how tedious Christine felt it was. The outlining of forms, without any particular details, took up two hours because of the massive canvas size. Every so often, Erik would ask her to move positions in the slightest bit to make the painting even more flattering or he would bring her some jeweled accessory to wear. It was amusing how the masked man directed Christine to remain so exposed, as long as she was comfortable, but never use his hands to reposition the girl. He seemed afraid to touch her, as though she was made of delicate glass and could easily break.

Over the duration of his painting, Christine tried to focus on anything in the room as distraction. She memorized the intricate detailing of the crown moulding and the exact shade of the wall color. It also gave her an excuse to study Erik's focused face: his fascinating eyes, the light wrinkles that could only be observed by a very careful eye, his well-defined jawline, the thick dark hair that always seemed exactly in place, and the smoothly curving white mask that covered the other half. Christine noted that his face would appear much kinder if it wasn't for the mask that was stuck in a firm expression with the strong almost angry arch of the eyebrow.

Amidst his thoughtful look, Erik's face would soften. Whenever he paused from his efforts in perfectly recreating every curve of her form, his mind wandered. It was astonishing how accepting she was of him and how openly she behaved, to the point where Christine was posed completely bare before him. Those evil-doers from earlier in his life wouldn't believe their vision at seeing such a lovely lady being kind to the man with the monstrous face. Even as an actress, it would've been difficult to pretend to have the joyful and loving feelings Christine expressed towards him.

His body felt aflame when he did pause to simply observe the girl and her perfect look lying over the silk. It took all of his self-control not to halt his work and take her. But there was still some fear lingering in his head of whether she'd consent to him, even after all the times she proved herself completely willing.

The time flew by as he was working away on the canvas. He kept in mind that his muse was likely growing tired of remaining in place for so long and tried to swipe the brush with more vigor. Being mostly satisfied with the almost complete piece, Erik put his materials down and approached Christine with the delicacy a hunter would use with a deer.

With wide eyes Christine spoke softly to him, "Can I move now?"

"Flip over and I think you won't want to move too much." Erik said with a smirk and a hungry look in his eyes.

The girl obeyed bashfully, keeping the silk partially covering her body for at least a touch of modesty.

"Now, no need to hide my dear." He chided, slowly bringing a hand to move the silk off of her.

Christine's blue eyes were fixed on him as he leaned over her frame, pressing his lips over her collarbones, hands remaining tangled within the dark curls of her hair. Their bodies felt electric. Every touch between them was like stars bursting within their veins, adrenaline making their hearts beat even faster. The girl felt Erik lower his hips onto her own, the clear sign of arousal pressed right up to her abdomen. Her pulse raced, heart beating harder against her chest.

Even in the bliss of passion, Christine felt something wrong- physically speaking. The cold material of Erik's white mask kept pressing over her body as he placed feathery kisses over her porcelain skin. It got in the way, shifting awkwardly over his face. The girl's hand delicately inched off the mask, Erik tensing only momentarily before allowing her to continue. Once it was carefully placed elsewhere, there were no barriers left between them besides Erik's clothing.

Noticing their difference in dressing, Christine reached up to unbutton his crisp white shirt. Erik's hands came up to finish and removed the shirt, feeling slightly vulnerable under her gaze. There was a patchwork of scars over his chest and back that frightened people many a time before. His skeletal frame wasn't a very attractive sight to most either, revealing more of his monstrous appearance.

The actress' innocent gaze scrutinized him. She imagined the great pain the scars must have caused him, many looking like blotchy burns, cuts, or whip marks. Slim fingers reached up to lightly caress the tortured skin, fearful that she could be hurting him. A silence fell over them for a while until Erik could no longer stand the anticipation of hearing Christine's reaction towards his hideousness.

"Now you see that my body was not spared from the ugliness of my face." He motioned towards himself.

"I only feel sorry that you had to feel such terrible pain. As for your appearance, I think you're like a piece of modern art: misunderstood but undeniably beautiful nonetheless."

Tears glazed his golden eyes.

Christine touched his face, expecting to wipe them away.

"You, dear girl, have shown me more kindness than anyone before."

"It is painful to know that people mistreat you so terribly."

"As they still do, but I've accepted my fate of being an isolated outcast."

"Then allow me to persuade you otherwise."

She gently pulled Erik's face back down onto hers, kissing him to prove that she wouldn't let him feel so alone anymore. Her eyes slowly re-opened once they broke apart, seeing a glimmering smile in place of his usual indifferent frown. With a deep impassioned breath, the man tightly held her shoulders in place while ravishing her neck and collarbones in such a teasing way directly over her chest. For an outcast, he certainly seemed to be skillful in relationships beyond his artistry.


	23. Chapter 23: Despair

A few more weeks passed of finishing the final scenes of filming and the project was complete. The massive premiere would take place in twenty-seven days and reporters claimed it would be the biggest film of the year, making the premiere expected to be a star-studded occasion filled with several cameramen. This excited many of the smaller-role cast members, but Christine was fearful about what to do. Her previous publicity events usually went under the control of her manager, forcing an air of a sexy socialite upon her. Now that Mr. Berman was rid of, Christine was unsure of how to behave: changing too much would raise suspicion of her intentions with her image.

In the last few weeks, Erik had shown Christine the final product of his painting. She admired his handiwork but claimed that the girl in the art piece was not an accurate replica of herself. The painted girl was unblemished, pale, enchanting, and perfect in every aspect besides illustrating Christine. Her slim frame was delicately covered partially with shining pink silk that matched the color of her lips. A pair of shining blue eyes with a mysterious shine in them, however, were the focal point of the piece. The actress commended him several times over, and then their communication slowed.

Of course there were the friendly greetings in the hallway if they crossed paths and occasional afternoon teas with the Daroga. But Erik seemed distant and troubled as he'd been before, which drove Christine to frustration. This time, however, she would not confront him and force him into a temper. She would wait until Erik cracked and decided to speak with her- after all, their murky relationship was not meant to be one-sided.

This concern was voiced to her closest two friends from the film: Meg Giry, from the makeup/hair design, and Raoul. They had replaced her former acquaintances in Paris, although Christine felt perpetually lonely either way. Raoul seemed indifferent whenever she mentioned her missing Erik's attentions, granted she spared them the more intimate details. Meg, however, wanted to know more.

"Please, Christine, there's no possibility that you miss him so terribly if all he did was teach you to sing better and flatter you." The blonde chided with a clever gleam in her brown eyes.

"Fine, there were other things I did not mention to you and I won't unless things have been patched up." Christine giggled.

"Ooh, I can only guess until you tell me. And by your cheeks, I think things were quite interesting..."

Christine shushed her gossiping friend, sipping her tea in hopes that her cheeks would pale faster.

"Anyways, what plans do you have for after the premiere?" The brunette changed the subject.

"There will definitely be press conferences and talk shows to attend, but I will try for the ballet here. After all, it _was_ what I was meant to do for work."

"I'll have to come to your performances, Prima Ballerina Meg Giry."

"And you? No other wealthy directors want you under their wings?"

"Definitely not. I abandoned my manager for being so demanding and through Erik's urging, so now my work will also be promoting myself as a manager would. I don't think my vixen image will return any time soon, it's too much work to keep up a profile so different from myself."

"I remember a lot of cast members, including me, were surprised that you weren't so flouncy and talkative."

They finished their tea, taking a quick detour on the way back to their buildings into a shop of various ornate trinkets. The girls admired each item, separating over the tables to see more of the shop's offerings. Christine focused on a gilded music box with garnets dotting the surface and a couple of masquerade dancers twirling in a waltz when the device was wound up. She recognized the tune- _La Vie en Rose_ \- a stereotypical choice for Paris, but it was still a beautiful song.

Another item that caught Christine's eye was a replica of the Palais Garnier, something she remembered visiting with the Daroga and him saying that it was an architectural favorite of Erik's. It wasn't nearly as pretty as the music box but the rooftops were spotted with gold, as in real life, and was designed with the most accurate precision in its details. Christine looked up briefly to see Meg admiring an old ginger-haired porcelain doll in frilled Victorian-style skirts.

The brunette's attention was later directed towards the locked case of jewelry pieces that formerly belonged to vicomtesses or noble ladies. Their brilliant colors and glimmering shapes differed greatly from those of modern pieces, appealing more to Christine's personal taste. She was reminded of the gifts Erik had given her for his foolishness, a few being similar accessories. A light smile graced her pink lips and she turned back to the music box, set on purchasing it.

She brought it up to the clerk, half-hoping that Meg wasn't paying attention to her and wouldn't bring up the music box. The clerk was an older man with silver-streaked hair dressed in a tasteful suit. He had a distinct accent when he spoke English to Christine and his whole appearance mirrored the style of the items in the shop. He smiled with a wise twinkle in his brown eyes as if he knew Christine's intentions, bidding her a good day once the trinket was wrapped into a gift box.

"What have you got there, Miss Daae?" Meg asked, trying to peep into the box.

"Something that interested me, nothing like what you're suggesting."

"Uh-huh, we'll see about that." She said, rolling her eyes and following Christine out of the door.

The Parisian sun was hidden by a few fluffy white clouds in the azure sky. Other people strolled through the slim sidewalks, admiring shop windows and chatting in various languages. There were, as always, a crowd of well-dressed city-goers at each café or restaurant. It was interesting to see tables ranging from eight occupants to those with only one. Paris may have been the city of love, but it was terribly lonely for anyone who wasn't with another person. There was an isolation present in the air whenever an individual noticed couples romancing together. Christine sensed it briefly, walking back to her building.

Meg departed and Christine gave her a slight smile, the bitter feeling in her heart dampening her mood. The brunette hopped up the staircase with the box carefully held in her hands, quickly going into her flat and placing the wrapped trinket onto the top of a coffee table. She felt suddenly inspired to write out her overwhelming feelings that she had no one to confess to. Taking a nearby notepad and a pen, Christine sat at a cushioned chair to begin pouring out what was weighing down her heart.

The words spilled out onto the paper, her hands moving at an almost furious rate. Everything was expressed on that little sheet: pain, longingness, former joys, frustration, and curiosity. Christine wrote about how torturous it was to be given such intimacy with him then have it all disappear...and multiple times. She didn't believe that Erik would use her but his behavior sometimes suggested otherwise. Finally the girl ran out of space and stopped her pen:

 _Erik,_

 _You have granted me the greatest happiness and the worst frustration I've felt. The joys being spending time with you: the painting, filming, café outings, running into each other in the Louvre. But the frustration always ensues once you decide to vanish. It happened once before and now I'm feeling it again. As feeling pain is better than nothing, I think it would be best if you expressed hatred towards me than keeping me in question of your sentiments. I miss your art, music, stories, uniqueness, stylish gentleman's features, and (most importantly) you. Please refuse me completely or return. I can't stand waiting around for an answer._

 _Yours,_

 _Christine_

She felt empowered by her high-riding emotions and felt the need to deliver the note to him. Following her heart's desire, she tucked the note partially into the box with Erik's name signed on top and quick-stepped through the hallway to place the package outside of Erik's door. Christine knocked briefly then ran back to her own flat as quietly as possible, standing with her ear pressed to her door as Erik's opened just down the hall.

Her head immediately pressured her with regret, but it was too late to take anything back. The girl ventured into the small kitchen to brew herself some peppermint tea, hoping it would relieve her nerves. Erik may think of the note as something foolish and avoid her even more, which would definitely be worse than now. How could she arrive at the premiere event in less than a month if he rejected her? That awkward circumstance would not go well.

The actress pinned her curls up and wrapped her frame in a fluffed white blanket, sitting upon the sofa with her tea cup. She read a book, attempting to clear her mind from the illogical move she'd just committed. It would be most difficult to sleep tonight if Erik didn't give her the answer she so desperately wanted to hear. The only other individual who moderately liked her was Raoul, but it was impossible to imagine anything with him. Plus it was all too clear that Meg was attracted to him and would be a much better match. Christine was troubled.


	24. Chapter 24: Music Box

The Daroga was fed up with Erik's childish behavior. He refused to eat properly, go outside of the flat, fix his appearance, work on anything besides some music, nor stop his pathetic moping. A navy blue suede sofa in the living room had become Erik's temporary residence during his depressive period. Multiple emptied glasses that used to be filled with water or alcohol were littered over the coffee table's top.

The room had become his miniature lair, which happened to resemble an abandoned attic at the moment. Stacks of old compositions and inspiration-pieces piled up all over the place with pens dispersed nearby in case Erik felt the desire to write. But, most of the time, he lied like a lump on the sofa in a state of half-slumber. The Daroga couldn't stand to see his pitiful appearance.

"I cannot stand this any longer! You must get up from that damned sofa." The Persian urged.

"Leave me here, Daroga." Erik grumbled.

"I've done that for long enough and you haven't improved. Get up and eat something."

"I'm not hungry and I don't need your motherly attentions."

He switched to his native language and spoke harshly: "Get up now and listen to what I've told you."

Erik obeyed with a glare on his unmasked face. He wobbled while walking back to his bedroom to change clothes, likely from his lack of nourishment and the effects of the alcohol. The Daroga returned to the kitchen with a sigh at his friend's poor habits and began brewing some hot water for tea.

Only a few moments before putting the kettle on the stove, there was a hurried knock at the door. It seemed too late for a guest to visit or one of Erik's associates to report something, and no one was expected to come. Calmly, the Persian approached the door and opened it to find a medium-sized box with a note tucked into the side on the floor. Seeing as the envelope with the note had Erik's name scrawled on it in a feminine hand, the Daroga had one assumption as to the sender of the note.

The masked man of interest happened to be striding through the hall towards him. Now, however, he was dressed in his more casual dress clothes and a thin white mask with his hair combed back, only without the use of gel. The Daroga commended him for finally getting himself together and handed the elegant box to him, expecting the contents to trouble him again.

Erik recognized the writing on the envelope immediately, the surprise on his face incredibly obvious, and he took off his mask in anguish. It was left atop a decorative tabletop and forgotten. All the progress of the past few minutes was lost, his mind racing at the thought of what Christine had sent him. The poor man almost limply fell to a seated position on a chair. He cautiously tore open the envelope and shakily pulled out the note inside. Unknown to him, he felt as nervous as Christine did in the room across the hall.

"I am going to die, Daroga." Erik stated as his friend entered the room with a cup of tea and piqued curiosity.

"What does it say?" The Persian asked, sitting adjacent to the masked man.

"My dear Christine does _not_ hate me! She simply wishes for me to either remain in contact with her or clearly express any disinterest, which is completely daft. Her words miraculously suggest that she hopes I choose the former option, isn't that unbelievable Daroga?"

"You don't ever give yourself enough credit...unless it comes to the arts, of course."

"Perhaps she feels bad for me, hmm? Or it may be a trick of a sort..."

"No, Erik, if you truly wish to ensure that it isn't a trick you have to talk to Christine."

"Ha! I'd go back to my childhood in the circus before I do that!"

"Would you stop being so childish? Go speak to her and, for heaven's sake, look through the rest of the box! Maybe that will guide you in a direction as to how you should react."

The Daroga sighed, sinking his back against the back of the chair and rubbing his forehead with his hands in distress. He was too old to be running around and offering such elementary pieces of advice to his masked friend. Of course, it was a joy to know that Erik actually believed a lady appreciated his existence but what exhausting work it became for him. He watched Erik's changing emotions, expressed very clearly now that the mask was gone.

"What an intriguing item! What do you think she means by this?" Erik proclaimed, carefully holding up a delicate statuette of a dancing couple.

"I don't know." The Persian shrugged.

Erik wound up the device and immediately recognized the music box's tune.

"Lovely melody, incredibly simple but elegant enough to be enjoyed." He mused.

The Daroga took a few seconds longer to remember the song before he spoke: "Ah, yes- _La vie en rose_. If I remember correctly, that is a song about infatuation so the meaning of this whole package would suggest as much. I have solved your case, Erik."

Erik glared at him and remarked sarcastically: "Why thank you, my dear Holmes. And perhaps the dear actress who sent this is unaware of the song's association but simply thought it pretty."

"I can't handle your awful excuses for any evidence of people not hating you." His friend sighed, "That is a well-known tune and Christine is not ignorant! Stop shoving away any proof pointing towards someone admiring you! You aren't as repulsive as you make yourself out to be."

"Yes, I am. If I wasn't so dreadful then I wouldn't have to cover my face and wouldn't have a ruined childhood."

"Fine, but you can't make the same assumption for Christine."

"What do you want me to do, marry her? Force her to look upon my face for all eternity?"

"No one's going that far, Erik. If you find that you wish for a marriage, go ahead, and don't assume that Christine has regained a shock towards your face. Now stop it with the self-doubt: get up and face your troubles."

"Fine, if she rejects your theory and slams the door in my face then you will no longer remain my guest here." Erik threatened, exiting out of the door and walking across the hallway.

"It would be a vacation for me if I was thrown out. Allah help you." The Persian muttered to himself, finishing his cup of tea and opening a book for entertainment.

Erik stood in front of Christine's door for what seemed like ages. He tried to delay knocking on it for as long as possible, studying the woodwork of the door or the pattern on the thick hallway rug. But he couldn't stop his mind from racing, though, and his inability to cope any longer forced his traitorous hand to knock. Immediate regret followed, and it grew upon hearing light footsteps approach the doorway.

As expected, the door opened and a surprised Christine stood in front of the masked man.


	25. Chapter 25: Ride

"Oh, hello Erik." The actress exclaimed in slight surprise.

"I wish you a good evening and hope you pardon my intrusion." The masked man began.

"It's no intrusion at all, please come inside." She urged politely, motioning for him to join her on the sofa.

Christine was in another silk nightgown, as it was almost nighttime, but Erik knew that this time couldn't be like the previous evenings where he grew incontinent around her. There was a serious matter needing to be discussed before anything else took place. He inhaled a deep breath in hopes of calming himself before confronting the situation.

To his surprise, the girl actually spoke before he managed to say anything: "How was your day? I don't suppose it was too busy with the filming over and everything."

"Quite so, Christine. I found a package outside my door not too long ago and that certainly was the highlight of my day."

"Really?" The brunette asked coyly, her eyes refusing to meet his as she tucked a few curly tendrils behind her ear.

"It was the most exquisite music box I've ever seen, although the sender is much more exquisite than any piece of porcelain dotted with gemstones."

"I take it you liked my gift to you?" She smiled.

"Most certainly, my dear."

"And you saw the note?"

"Yes." He said, the cheeriness from before wearing off.

"Well?"

Erik was sure that it must have been a trick of some sort. Though he'd seen the note with his own eyes, there was still doubt about Christine's supposed fondness. Perhaps if he told her his desire of continuing some intimacy she would laugh in his wretched face- for even the most angelic of ladies couldn't accept him. But it would be a betrayal to himself if he refused Christine. It was between risking his pride then breaking his heart or killing any chance whatsoever with the precious girl.

Her clear blue eyes remained fixed on him, filling with dread and uncertainty by the minute. That was the only proof Erik needed to know of her true motive. There was nothing but honest care and anticipation of his response hidden in her irises. It became very simple to choose what he would say to the brunette.

"I must tell you the truth, Christine." The masked man finally spoke, drawing even more of her attention.

"Yes Erik?"

"My wish...that is, if you allow it to be so, is for us to remain as close friends at least. I wouldn't dare desire more unless it was upon your consent."

A huge grin appeared on her face as she embraced him in delight. With her smaller stature, all Erik could see of her in this position was a mass of brown curls. He could also feel her warmth radiating outwards and directly around his torso, as Christine's chest was pressed towards his heart. It was as though over the whole duration of the time they spent together, the thick coating of ice around his heart began to melt and now the final layer was gone. The masked man realized just how powerful his sentiment was and that he would be willing to die, kill, and fight for this young, optimistic actress.

Christine pulled back after a while, noticing that Erik seemed to be lost in thought. She watched his expression in childlike curiosity and waited patiently for a response, knowing that prodding Erik was never a good idea. In a moment, an unusual bright look came across his face and he took Christine's hand.

"Would you mind going somewhere?" He questioned vaguely.

"Now?"

"Yes."

"I guess not, but you'd have to let me get dressed in something suitable. Where would we be going?"

"It'd be a surprise, but I advise you to dress a bit warmly."

The actress studied his golden eyes with a smile, then nodded her head and dashed back to her closet to dress herself for the occasion. Erik made himself comfortable in the _salle_ and flipped through one of the books Christine had left on the coffee table. He was delighted to see a copy of the hilarious _Candide_ and read part of it whilst waiting for Christine to finish.

She emerged shortly after Erik finished with the first quarter of the book. Dressed in cropped black trousers, a button-up blouse, ballet flats, and a floral-patterned head scarf, Christine looked like a typical jet-set starlet of the time. The only makeup on her pale face was some rouge and a light brushing of mascara, as her dark eyebrows were full enough without powders.

Paying her a generous compliment, Erik guided Christine out to a vehicle he borrowed for the night: a sleek, black '54 Buick Skylark. The convertible top was removed and Christine felt nostalgic for back when she used to be driven around a lot more often, back when she was a simple girl in a small city. She stared up at the beautiful sparkling of the stars dotting the pitch black sky while Erik started the car and drove gently away from the building. The cool night air was heavenly against her skin mixed with the heat of the summer temperature. Her masked driver remained stoic, as usual, while he steered the car by the famous Parisian landmarks all aglow with lights.

Christine looked outside for the rest of the ride, admiring how calming the bustling city was during the night. Her blue eyes didn't happen to catch Erik's deep gaze stuck upon her joyous face every so often. The expression of such happiness was enough for him to know that, even if the girl didn't love him the way he did her, the wide smile on her face was because of him. It was a rare thing for him to see in general but it was much better to bring Christine happiness than to anyone else he'd ever encountered.

Erik slowed his driving speed whenever he approached someplace like the Eiffel Tower or the Notre Dame, allowing his precious passenger to admire the view a bit longer. After passing all of the main attractions, the ride continued outwards towards the countryside where the details of the night sky became even clearer to see without all the lights from the city. Pretty French songs played from the radio as accompaniment for the beautiful setting and they eventually led Christine to fall asleep delicately against the beige leather seat. Once the driver took notice, the car was turned around so she could be returned to the comfort of her own bed.


	26. Chapter 26: Uncertainty

Christine woke up at the wee hours of morning and found herself somehow back in her bedroom. The drive seemed to be a beautiful dream that she woke up from: perfect, gentle, and idealistic. Now she fancied herself to be left alone yet again to sleep off the dream. But the room wasn't vacated of guests; Christine's low position in laying on the bed prevented her from seeing Erik sitting off to the side of the room. A low light illuminated the bedroom dimly enough for Erik to notice her eyes opening amidst his reading.

"Ahh, an early good morning to you Miss Daae." He chuckled.

Upon hearing his voice, she jolted in surprise and brief fear then relaxed after recognizing that the stranger was really the familiar masked man.

"Oh my goodness, Erik, you frightened me." Christine sighed and sat up in her bed.

"You finally see me as the monster I am?"

"How dare you make that assumption! I couldn't possibly understand how people view you so cruelly."

"Ah, pardon me. Both for the assumption and for frightening you."

"Why are you in here at this ungodly hour?"

Erik shifted his position and uncrossed his legs, taking a few steps towards the bed to sit down at the edge. At least there Christine wouldn't have to strain her eyes to see him.

"Well, the last few times I've left you alone after something...momentous...it didn't result in a very nice outcome. This time, I decided to stay at your bedside."

"Aren't you sleepy at all? I don't believe that chair is too comfortable for you."

"It is of no matter. I hope you enjoyed the nighttime ride and that you didn't fall asleep of boredom?"

"Of course not! It was marvelous." Christine assured him, leaning towards him and gratefully kissing his bare cheek.

Her delicate hands remained on the sides of his face, gently hinting that she wished to remove the cold mask. Erik hesitated at first but slowly eased to her desire and grimaced as Christine pulled it off carefully. She smiled reassuringly as the mask was placed on the nearby nightstand. Furthermore, the brunette kissed his now-unmasked cheek to make things even. The skin was still, of course, rough and visibly warped but no monstrosity worth mistreating a person for. It was like those new art pieces the modern artists came up with: unique and requiring further thought to appreciate.

That part of his hairline receded further back on his head, as though it'd been brutally burned off, and Christine placed a soft kiss upon that side of his forehead as though it would heal his pains. Physically, Erik remained the same. Internally, however, he was healing step-by-step with his dear actress' adoration. His heart seemed to care less for the odd looks of passersby and strange whispers of those who worked for him. As long as the darling girl found him appealing, no others mattered.

Christine must have either been born with a natural kindness or greatly taught compassion and empathy throughout her childhood. There would be no other possible explanation for how she could have been willingly in such a position with Erik, who'd only been called monstrous or dreadful. What a shock it would be to those judgmental people to see him now! For as Christine removed his mask and kissed his marred cheek, she continued on to press gentle kisses all over the rest of his face.

A mere moment passed when Christine felt wet teardrops descending from his cheeks.

"Erik, what's wrong?" She frowned, immediately assuming the fault was hers.

"The stark difference of how I've been treated in the past and how you're currently treating me." He admitted quietly.

"Oh, then don't bother with being upset. That was in the past and this could be the remainder if you wish for it."

Christine wiped the tears off his face and smiled sweetly at him, keeping her hands on his cheeks. She gazed into his golden eyes, trying to decipher what he was thinking.

Erik collected himself momentarily to respond: "Was that a form of proposal?"

The brunette blushed, "I suppose so."

"Are you certain? I don't believe you're very well acquainted with the worst aspects of my character, and it would be utterly terrible for you to constantly be exposed to m-"

Christine interrupted his rambling, "You silly man! That gives me an excuse to spend more time with you and I don't believe anything will change my opinion."

"Perhaps you'll regret your hasty offer when you aren't so sleepy later today. I'll leave you for now to rest and return in the early afternoon." Erik stated, kissing Christine's forehead and leaving her alone without giving her a chance to say anything more.

With her mind realizing her fatigue, the girl lied back down onto the pillow and felt comforted by the thought of being around Erik. He was such a gentleman without expecting anything in return like most of the men in the industry. The knowledge he possessed was also indescribably impressive, especially with art or music. It would be impossible to grow bored of someone so brilliant and dynamic. Her comforting thoughts were the only thing in her mind as she fell asleep.

Erik returned as promised in the morning. Christine was glowing with contentment as she recollected old memories of adventures with her father to Erik. He looked happy, unmasked, at the girl's openness to him and the love she possessed for her father. Christine hadn't mentioned anything about the late-night (or rather early-morning) proposal and Erik didn't plan on reminding her. But if she did, there would be no hesitation in happily accepting her choice from the musician's side.

What a dream that would be, remaining eternally with the kind actress. They could travel to anyplace she desired, live in a regal home with magnificent gardens, work together on creating music, own multiple adoring pets for Christine's sake, and give her the opportunity to never have to work again. Dare he even imagine, starting a family with her? Perhaps that would be too much of a request with his monstrous appearance potentially being passed onto children. He couldn't live with himself if that happened. He only hoped Christine would remember and still feel the same as she did hours before.


	27. Chapter 27: Ending

Meg was running around the dressing room, applying all sorts of makeup products to Christine's face. The brunette sat at the large vanity and watched her friend rush around her, trying to ensure that Christine would look perfect. It was a very important day for the entire cast and crew who were involved in this event, especially Erik. Everyone was running about to prepare everything and set cameras up in strategic places on location.

"Calm down, Meg, I'm sure I don't need anymore blush on my cheeks and you've done an amazing job already. Sit down, please." Christine smiled gently.

"No, Christine! I want to make sure you look perfect out there. Just let me at least finish blending the blush in."

"Alright but you need to sit down with me for a minute. There's plenty of time before I have to go out and I'd like to relax back here with you for a little while."

"Oh...well here, I'll sit down right here by you and we can talk."

Meg moved a chair over to Christine, a few tears of happiness welling up in her eyes for the friend she'd gained over the filming. She was such a sweet person, always looking at the brighter side of things and treating everyone she encountered with equal respect. It was unfair that so many forms of media portrayed her to be a vixen equal to those other actresses that would pose in nothing but their makeup. After journalists discovered Christine's relationship with Erik, the studio head and primary director of the film she was in, they promoted that same image of the actress only being with Erik for helping her career.

Meg and Erik's dear friend were the only two other people that would remain near them despite the accusations being made. Raoul was disappointed but supporting of Christine's wishes, having hoped that she would've remained his sweetheart instead before he met someone he truly loved. All of the gossip going around forced the majority of people involved to be secretive of the things happening and caused for them all to be hiding out in a secure, private location even now.

The actress was sitting uncomfortably at her vanity, trying to straighten out her voluminous skirt while also not crushing it against anything. Christine carefully drank some water in case the drink would spill and was terribly cautious doing anything at all in her dress. It would have to be perfect for the rest of the day when she'd finally be moderately exposed to the media for the first time in months. Meg finally announced the time for them to leave the dressing room and led Christine by the arm down the hallway.

A grand set of doors opened widely, revealing the vast and elegantly decorated interior of the church. Though the majority of the room was empty, the guests were only the dearest of people to Christine. Erik's organ-playing filled any possible silence and it was delightful to hear him playing a cheerful composition of his own for once. He turned to look over his shoulder upon noticing Christine's arrival at the altar and her position beside him. Her simple frame was donned in a laced white gown with a long train, glittering slightly in only certain angles of lighting. It complimented the actress so perfectly that her momentary appearance made tears well up in Erik's golden eyes. He had made himself a special mask just for the occasion- one that matched his skin tone and even had some textural elements that made it look like an ordinary face.

"Hello, Erik." Christine smiled.

"M-my dear, I have no words to describe you. Simply breathtaking and perfect." Erik replied, standing up from the organ bench and standing beside her.

The priest officiated the rest of the event, droning on about things Erik never really understood. But the admirable look on Christine's face was enough for him to know that it was completely worth the questioning he went through with the priest and his own mysterious aura being looked down upon. Her crystalline blue eyes were glazed over with joyous tears and they gazed up at Erik every so often. She felt her heart leap when Erik was told to repeat the vows and place the diamond ring on her finger. Unknown to her, the masked man felt the same anxiously happy way when she repeated the motions towards himself.

Each moment was captured on a movie camera operated by some of Erik's most trusted camera-people. His favorite part would become the ending of the ceremony itself when the priest instructed him to kiss his new, lovely, wife. Christine was so surprisingly happy to do so that she practically knocked his mask off its position. Their friends applauded them as they walked back down the aisle, for the first time as a married couple. It was the happiest time of Erik's entire life and made him understand why he had to go through all of the pain before: it was preparing him to meet the kindest person on the Earth and be a good enough man for her. Christine was simply delighted to have found a person who understood her and someone her father would've adored. The rest of their lives were lived in the utmost joy with an almost complete absence of argument.


End file.
